


draped in your love, I breathe

by karasunotsubasa



Series: modus vivendi [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALERT: HEARTBREAK, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Dancing, Drinking, Facials, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Designer Victor Nikiforov, First Dates, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, News Media, Paparazzi, Photographs, Pregnancy Kink, Prostate Massage, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Smut, Social Media, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wake-Up Sex, and by F I mean forehead, bc we all know yuuri and his vivid dreams right, dating in paris is the Peak Romance, did you think it will be easy for them to kiss?, every time either of them says 'oh' the world is goes up in flames, fashion designer yuuri katsuki, get ready for it, grand gesture katsuki strikes again, he loves them big and bald so he can rest all his kisses there, kisses kisses all around, lilia baranovskaya is basically anna wintour and I will fight you on this, literal actual swooning happens, mentions of milasara, mila takes No Shit, phichit is the friend we all want and deserve, phichit to the rescue bc boi is so good he could put the sun to shame, sapfest extraordinare, spontaneous proposals are trademarked by victuuri for forever, these boys love their drama so much jfc, they are both idiots AND in love, thigh fucking, trouble always comes in paris, victor creates a look inspired by yuuri bc he's an even bigger sap, victor's heart is a frail thing despite the fronts he puts up, watch the world burn as hard as their cheeks do, well think again, who wants a smooch?, yuuri katsuki is a big F lover, yuuri names a whole dress after victor bc he's a sap, yuuri saves the day bc he's a good boy like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 92,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: When Phichit Chulanont, the best friend, main model, and face of Yuuri's brand of designer fashion wear decides to branch out a little, Yuuri is more than supportive. It is purely on accident that the man whom Yuuri admires (more like crushes on to the max but will die if you tease him about it), the famous Victor Nikiforov, is holding a casting for his next runway show, and since Yuuri is a good friend, he can't let Phichit go alone, now can he? Little do they both know that they're going into a meeting that will change all of their lives. For better or for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> phew okay, so after a loooong and frankly exhausting couple of months I can finally share with yall the fic I've been working on for [the victuri big bang](https://victuri-big-bang.tumblr.com/) with the incredible [@littorella](https://littorella.tumblr.com/)! despite everything else sucking out my energy behind the scenes, this fic has been a passion project from the start to the finish, and I'm so incredibly happy I got to work with alli on this bc she knows All The Things and it's been an amazing learning experience on my part, which I'm really grateful for //prayer 
> 
> anyway, this is the fic, and there will be some art, so please make sure to check out both! ❤️  
> and now, without further ado, enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> "I don't design clothes. I design dreams."  
> —Ralph Lauren

 

 

 

 

 

If Yuuri wasn't so used to Phichit's phone going off constantly, he probably would've jumped when the thing came to life in his friends' hands.

"Ah, sorry, I'm going to take this," Phichit says as he quickly slides off the stool.

He's out of the workroom even before Yuuri distractedly hums his agreement while he moves around the dress form with pins in one hand and an armful of fabric in another. He tries to pin the shape he wants into being, too focused on it to register anything else, and so, he continues his work in silence once Phichit is gone. Pleat after pleat, he struggles to drape the material, to let it flow like he imagined it when he was sketching, but...

There is something wrong with the fabric.

Yuuri tugs out the pins that keep the drape in shape and lets the material slide back to its natural state. On one hand, he should've known it will be difficult to work with tulle – especially in terms of draping and the sheer volume of it, since the material covers the entire dress form and, frankly, swallows it with ease – but he wasn't expecting this much of a struggle. It isn't his first time getting frisky with this fabric, after all.

Yet, even as he thinks that, Yuuri grimaces at the way the tulle bends out of his chosen shape. It's rough, it's hard. Even when it bends, the lines are far from the silky quality of water the blue colour invokes. It's more of a jagged sapphire or lapis lazuli, a stone cut with an untrained hand.

Yuuri's hands, however callused from the pins and needles, and sowing, and fixing, are not untrained. Quite the opposite, in fact. He is one of a dime-a-dozen designers in America, which doesn't mean all that much since he's only a small fish in a pond filled with sharks – Yuuri himself knows that he isn't all that much, not that he strives to be – but him being there and staying afloat does mean one thing: he knows what he's doing. Or, at least, he should.

And yet the tulle still catches on the dry cuticles that peel around his fingernails, and it tugs and it pulls, and Yuuri is just _not getting anything done at all_.

"Fine," he finally snaps, letting go of the fabric and shaking his hand when the material catches on his fingers again. "If you want to be stubborn, so be it. I'm done."

He steps back and looks at the garment again. It's just a big blob of tulle layers, nothing else. Without draping, it's all it will ever be, which... would be a pretty terrible thing to send down the runway. Not that Yuuri has no practice in that department, according to some sources, but the way this dress is progressing is shaping up to slide right onto that list, if not the very top of it.

The garment looks like that blue Cinderella dress from the new remake, except wet. And less glamorous. And less sparkly. And with more additional fabric on top, which would make seeing past it almost impossible... So, overall, it looks like a huge Koosh ball.

The critics would have a field day with that, Yuuri is sure.

As he stares at the dress form, long and hard, and increasingly frustrated, Yuuri can't think of a way to make it seem more... polished. More _him_. All he can see is the toy he used to play with when he was a kid and he can't break away from the image.

Resigned to suffer, he sighs.

"Not today then, I guess."

The hour is still early, so he could work on another dress or maybe the jacket for the fall men's line, but before he can decide if it's even worth it, the doors to the workroom open and Phichit re-enters with his phone in the hand and a smile on his face. A smile that doesn't fool Yuuri even for a second.

"Again?" Yuuri asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Phichit only shrugs. "I'm already an accomplished model, so a few rejections here and there won't be enough to make me feel bad about myself. One day they will be sorry for it, you'll see. It's their loss, even if they don't realize it yet."

"It sure is," Yuuri agrees, because there is nothing that Phichit lacks and the idiots who reject him simply based on his close association with Yuuri are prejudiced bigots who should never have anything good happen to them.

Yuuri doesn't say anything when Phichit comes over to stand next to him and critically appraises the mess of blue tulle that has been driving Yuuri nuts for the better part of the day. One fine eyebrow quirks at the regressed state of it, to which Yuuri can only shrug.

"It's harder than I thought it would be," Yuuri says.

"I liked how it looked before," Phichit chimes in, but Yuuri only shakes his head to that.

He bites on his lip and looks over the design again. It was supposed to be an avant-garde play on a prom dress, but now Yuuri begins to doubt that vision. Who needs something like that in their wardrobe? Who needs something like that before their eyes?

Regardless of Yuuri's inner struggle, Phichit flips a few layers of the fabric up so it can float down – and it's pretty. It's exactly why Yuuri has chosen to work with it. But can he really work it, if his design is more ambitious than his skills allow? Should he just humbly accept that he isn't ready for this? Shelf the project and move on?

He grunts at the blue tulle monster and chooses to focus on the next best thing. Which happens to be his best friend's career.

"Look," Yuuri starts, "I know you're sticking with me because of some old promise we made back before all of this started." Yuuri waves a hand at the room that is filled with work stations and the choppy inversed garments for his next collection, which Phichit, as always, will be the face and the star of. "But I just want you to know that if you need to throw me under the bus to boost up your selling points, I'll be completely fine with it. Half the industry already thinks of me as rude and eccentric, so I really won't mind some additional shade from you of all people."

The way Phichit cocks his head as he turns back to Yuuri is a clear tell of what they both know: Yuuri is lying through his teeth. He has never been good about handling the media attention, which is where Yuuri's most iconic designs came from – the avant-garde one-of-a-kind masks he makes by hand, and which he then wears to events to hide his face from the press and from _himself_.

There is, however, one person who can see through them, and he's standing right next to Yuuri as he sees through this mask, too.

"I appreciate the gesture, Yuuri, I do," Phichit says. "But there's no way in hell that I'll ever do that. If they can't accept me for me, as I come with a full package, then they just can't accept me. That's all there is to it. I'll just have to try until someone finally does. It really has nothing to do with you."

Yuuri opens his mouth to argue again, but Phichit interrupts him with a smile that is both sharp and oddly comforting for how mischievous it looks.

"And if no one ever does, I'll just have to be happy being the face of Yuugen for the rest of my life. I believe I'll manage that level of heartbreak, don't you?"

Yuuri's little smile isn't proportionate to the happiness he feels at the silly words, but it makes Phichit's face light up nonetheless. With a laugh, Phichit wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulders and they both face the horrible blue menace.

"So, what are you going to do with this one?" Phichit asks.

Yuuri is right about to answer that he's hoping that maybe staring at the blue of Victor Nikiforov's eyes for the rest of the day may help him find his way out of this uninspired darkness, like it had done so many times before, but–

"Oh my god, Phichit!" he shrills. "I completely forgot!"

He turns to his friend and grips his arms hard. "He's casting today! At six!"

A look at the big clock over the entrance confirms that it is only six thirty.

"We can still make it, if you want to?"

Phichit blinks at him, clearly confused, but he doesn't ask for clarification – he just goes with it, bless his soul, as he always does with any of Yuuri's wild and unpredictable ideas.

"Okay, let's go," Phichit says, no hesitation in his voice. "I always bring my portfolio with me in case of emergencies, so sure, why not? Another rejection won't hurt me at this point, I can take it."

" _If_ he rejects you," Yuuri points out, to which Phichit grins, and a matching grin blossoms on Yuuri's face, too. "Let's go then, there's no time!"

In a hurry, they leave the workroom and then the building. Yuuri doesn't even know if he locked the place, and he's pretty sure he left the lights on, but there's security to keep it safe and the slight raise in the bills will be well worth it if Phichit gets the job.

Hailing a cab takes them no more than a minute and it's only in the safety of the backseat that Phichit turns to him, questions in his eyes.

"So... who are we going to meet?"

The deep breath Yuuri takes is not only for the sake of the suspense. It might be the end result, but mostly Yuuri simply tries to calm the erratic beating of his heart, which as if to spite him, picks up as soon as his lips form the shape of the name of the man he has adored even before he knew he wanted to become a designer.

"Victor Nikiforov."

It's Phichit who chokes on his breath first, but Yuuri feels like he could give him a run for his money.

"Yuuri!" Phichit gasps, grabbing onto his thigh with enough strength to make Yuuri's leg go numb. " _Are you sure?_ "

"Am I sure we're going to a VN casting?" Yuuri laughs, a strained, horrible sound which he can't contain. "Yes, I am."

"Not that, silly! Are you sure you want to go? Oh my god, what if _he's there_? Yuuri, that would be so amazing! And terrifying! Amazingly terrifying? Oh. My. _God_!"

The sound Phichit makes then reminds Yuuri of a strangled goose, but he is far from calling Phichit out on it when he feels like echoing it himself.

Honestly, he is probably crazy for considering such a reckless stunt, but... Phichit deserves it. He's been modelling for Yuuri ever since they started Yuugen in the little college dorm room they shared, and he climbed the ladder of success at Yuuri's side every step of the way. So when a couple months ago Phichit has told Yuuri that he considers branching out from under Yuugen, Yuuri reacted like any friend would: he supported him as best as he could, and he will continue to do so for as long as he can.

Even if that means seeing his idol, his crush, the literal god of the fashion industry himself...

"He probably won't even be there," Yuuri mumbles weakly.

He doesn't know who he tries to convince more, himself or Phichit, but it doesn't work anyhow. Panic seeps into Yuuri's heart like it's made a home there. Yuuri is powerless to stop it and when the cab finally stops at the address that Yuuri found at the VN website, he feels like he is going to puke from nerves.

And he isn't even the one trying out for the job.

"Hey," Phichit calls softly, as observant as ever. "It's okay if you want to just wait here for me. I promise I'll be fine. You don't need to push yourself if you aren't ready. They say 'never meet your idols' so you can just kick back here and keep your fingers crossed while I go and ace this, okay?"

Stubborn, Yuuri shakes his head. "No, it's fine. I'll just... I'll just stew in my nerves inside. Maybe if I'm there I will actually get nervous for your sake, which will give me a break from this."

Phichit doesn't laugh when Yuuri gives a silly, anxious chuckle, but his lips quirk up a bit.

"Come on then," he says. "Let's find you a seat on those fancy VN couches."

The seats are plenty once they get inside. And that is because the hall is almost empty. There is only the receptionist there and two more girls, models, probably, and one of them is crying while the other tries to console her.

The panic that Yuuri felt before returns again. He comes up with Phichit to the desk and steps from one foot to the other while Phichit gives the woman behind it his best grin.

"Hello!" he chimes. "I know it's fairly late, but I was wondering if maybe I could squeeze myself into the casting for the VN fall line?"

The woman glances at him from her computer screen. Her eyes are clearly appraising as they take Phichit in. Yuuri can almost see the rejection shining in the smile she offers, but before she can actually speak the words, the phone on her desk goes off.

"Please wait for a moment," she says and picks up the phone only to listen, nod, and give a short: "Right away, yes." She then hangs up, turns to them once more and adds: "I will be back in a second, excuse me."

On her high heels, she clicks through the hallway and disappears behind some door. Before Yuuri can even breathe a deeper breath to calm his nerves, the same door opens again and the clicking of her heels returns, but this time... this time–

"Oh my god," Phichit whimpers.

Yuuri swallows, heart in his throat.

This time, the receptionist isn't alone.

Behind her walks no one other than the name of the brand, _the_ Victor Nikiforov himself, who looks just as good in person as he does in pictures. No, scratch that, Yuuri thinks as Victor lifts a hand to rub at the side of his sharp, strong jaw. He is more than he seems in pictures. So much more. So, so much more, that when Victor turns his head and their eyes meet, Yuuri drowns in the blue: gorgeous blue that outshines any other shades ever made and makes his head spin just from one look at it.

"Fuck," he almost sobs, and it's only Phichit's arm that keeps him from bolting from the room. "He's here, Phichit, kill me now, _please_."

"No killing," Phichit whispers urgently, eyeing the two over Yuuri's shoulder. "You are going to stay here and be your charming, lovely self, while I squeeze the audition out of the man himself. And then we can both go get some carbs and cry, and gush about his perfect silver hair, yes?"

Yuuri wants to shake his head, wants to say a strong NOPE CAN'T DO IT BYE but he can't, because the receptionist is already sitting behind her desk and Yuuri realizes that Victor Nikiforov, _THE_ Victor Nikiforov, is standing behind his back.

Slowly, as if all his motion settings were reset, Yuuri turns around. And Victor, the blessed man that he is, gives him a little polite smile that freezes Yuuri's brain and sets his heart on fire all in the span of a single second.

 _Fuck_ , Yuuri thinks to himself again. _Oh fuck._

"Hello," Victor says, a perfect smile on his perfect face that sits on his perfect head on his perfect neck on his perfect shoulders and his perfect chest and his–

"Hi," Phichit replies, a smile on his own face, too. "It's amazing to meet you. We're both big fans, but I guess everyone tells you that."

Victor's eyes crinkle around the edges, a little spidery lines that Yuuri has never seen before on any photographs, but which add him so much charm and gentle warmth. Now Yuuri feels a little cheated that such a beautiful thing was deemed imperfect and retouched as consequently as the female models' stomachs in all the magazines. It's a crime, surely, to–

"I do hear that a lot, yes," Victor replies, easy and sweet, "but it is always a pleasure to meet fans and hear that there is so much support for the projects we've been working on. Thank you for your continued interest."

Victor's eyes flit to Yuuri for one second, possibly because Yuuri has yet to open his mouth, but, honestly, how could he? _Victor Nikiforov_ is standing right there and Yuuri cannot comprehend that fact, much less remember the motor skills that are needed to speak coherent words in succession.

Which leads him to staring at his idol like a mute fish. A very flattering look, Yuuri is sure, as he watches how Victor's beautiful, beautiful face flushes at the intensity of Yuuri's staring. It's like a hot flash running through his body when Yuuri realizes how incredibly rude he's being, and he himself blushes, horrified, before he finally snaps his eyes away.

_Oh god._

"Actually," Phichit serves to rescue him as he steps into Victor's line of vision, blocking Yuuri's sight of the soft, silver hair which must feel like the highest quality silk, "I'm here for the go-see for your fall line. Was just asking this lovely lady," Phichit smiles at the receptionist who doesn't spare him as much as a glance, "if you'll still take me? I know coming off the street like this isn't exactly professional, but..."

He ends on a hopeful lilt and Yuuri knows without looking that Phichit must be doing his most practiced puppy-eyed face. If it was Yuuri in Victor's shoes, he would already be agreeing, but, alas, Victor Nikiforov did not get to where he is now by taking in everyone who asked nicely.

"I'm sorry," Victor says. "The casting is already done for the day."

Yuuri doesn't see Victor's face. All he sees is the slump in Phichit's shoulders, defeated, resigned, and he knows then that he cannot let this go. Not like this.

The receptionist is handing Victor a thick file when Yuuri steps from around Phichit and says: "Wait, please. Just... just give him a chance."

Victor's eyes turn to him and it takes all of Yuuri's confidence not to shrink away from him, or get lost in that stunning, startling blue again... one of the two. He isn't even sure which, but he's sure that he has to keep talking for as long as that blessed attention remains on him. He has to make Victor _see_. And somehow, having Victor's eyes trained right on Yuuri's face – which is already flushed and only growing darker – makes Yuuri believe that he _can_.

"Phichit is a really amazing model," Yuuri blurts out. "He's versatile, he'll be a good fit for many different looks, and he's fun, so he can bring them to the next level, which I know you'd appreciate. Just, one shot. He's worth it, I promise."

Victor's mouth softens around the edges. Even his words are soft when he speaks, but the message truly isn't.

"I'm sorry," Victor says. "If you came five minutes earlier then maybe, but now..."

Yuuri knew it would be this way. He knew it, he expected it, but it stings nonetheless.

"Hey, it's fine," Phichit butts in, his shoulder bumping lightly into Yuuri's as he comes to stand next to him almost like he wants to cheer Yuuri up. "It was last minute anyway. No worries. Thanks for your time anyway."

"No problem," Victor replies, smiling again. "Next time, though, be sure to make it on time. I'd gladly give you a shot then, like I do to anyone else. I hope to see you then?"

"Will do!" Phichit offers him another smile.

They watch Victor turn around, but Yuuri – with his crushed heart and bruised hopes – can't even appreciate the view. Phichit's arm loops around his shoulders and squeezes once.

"It didn't work out, but we tried, Yuuri," he says. "And who knows? Maybe next time he'll remember me, so that's always some advantage."

Yuuri only sighs at it. "I guess dinner's on me tonight, huh? Carbs, you said?"

"And talking about your silver fox' amazing hair, yes, I do believe I mentioned something like that," Phichit grins and pulls him back to the exit. "I'm feeling pasta today, you in?"

"Sure, why not."

Yuuri shrugs, but he can't help a little smile. Phichit's lack of care for the many rejections he's suffered is something Yuuri himself should really learn from, yet for now... for now he will just share his attitude and try his best not think about it.

Or so he plans, but a voice from behind them, _the_ voice, stops him.

"Wait!"

They both turn: Yuuri surprised, and Phichit with a triumphant grin on his face, which he tries to hide, but fails completely since it shines from his eyes like black sequins in the glare of a spotlight.

Victor Nikiforov stands a few steps away from the desk, the folder in his hands, and a look in his eyes that Yuuri is either too blind to see from that far away, or he's just morally incompetent to interpret correctly, because surely Victor Nikiforov couldn't look at them with so much–

"We can take two more, I believe," Victor says before Yuuri can finish the thought, and he snaps out of it with a start.

"T-two?" Yuuri chokes out. And then he promptly blushes, because _oh no_. "I'm not a model! I'm just here for moral support, not for a job!"

From deep within his heart, Yuuri hopes that Victor will just take his word for it and let the matter go. Otherwise... How could Yuuri ever live through the embarrassment of telling Victor Nikiforov himself that Yuuri is too fat to fit into any of his designs? He couldn't. He'd never. _God_ , he'd rather dig his grave now and willingly lie in it, thank you very much.

He feels Victor's eyes drag over his body, a slow torture for Yuuri's struggling heart. The gaze stops at his every curve, at every roll of his silhouette – the hips, the shoulders, the chest, the thighs. It feels like a heated laser against his skin, but blue, but cold, but–

It finally stops on Yuuri's face, and Victor cocks his head to the side.

"With that body and face? I highly doubt that. You'd fit my brand rather well."

Phichit's sudden coughing fit only serves to deepen Yuuri's blush. He's pretty sure it has taken over his entire face, his neck, maybe ever his chest. His ears feel like they're steaming and, frankly, Yuuri feels a little lightheaded when he mumbles:

"I'm a designer."

His embarrassment only heightens when Victor's mouth drops open. As stupid as he looks, he also looks perfect and charming, and _so cute_ that Yuuri is in physical pain from how ridiculously fast his heart hammers in his chest. It's unfair, Yuuri thinks, to look that good while making such a stupid face, but there Victor is, perfect and beautiful in all he does, and Yuuri, the shy neighbourhood gremlin, must live in the land of Forever Embarrassed until he breathes his last.

Phichit, who has been struggling to contain his amusement for a while now, chooses that exact moment to guffaw out loud. His laughter echoes off the walls of the empty hall and Yuuri flinches at the sound. Before he can actually run out of the building as he is ready to do, Phichit grabs him by the arm and pulls him towards Victor, whose face is now sporting a blush of embarrassment that on Yuuri would look terrible – it looks terrible, Yuuri is sure – but on Victor it looks... it looks...

He's perfect, Yuuri sobs, deep in his heart.

"Dude, oh my god," Phichit says in a voice that is wet with tears of mirth. "You're literally wearing his shirt, what even."

He says it at the same time as he slaps the small Yuugen tag on the hemming of the little pocket on the breast of the shirt that Victor is wearing. It's a black v-neck tee, loose and asymmetrical: longer on one side than it is on the other. And yes, indeed, as Yuuri looks closer, he can see it as his own design from the–

"–capsule collection for spring 2017," Phichit says, glee in his voice. "Oh, this is just _precious_."

Yuuri can't disagree more. Now, that Phichit has pointed it out, he cannot look away from his design. Because the shirt Yuuri has worked on, maybe not the one he himself has crafted, but the one he designed, is sitting on Victor Nikiforov's shoulders and Yuuri... Yuuri doesn't know how to breathe anymore.

"Wow," Victor says. "I didn't realize– I mean, I didn't know that you– Um..."

He can't seem to make up his mind on what to say, and it's only then that Yuuri chances a glance at him. What he sees there, brings his own mouth open again, because Victor seems to be as flustered as Yuuri himself.

Which is odd.

But also, cute. Unbelievably cute.

And Yuuri ends up staring at Victor's flushed cheeks and shining eyes, and the hair that Victor messes up with a hand that he first rubs on his face like he wants to compose himself, but is still struggling.

_Wow._

"I'm sorry," Victor finally decides on. "I should've recognized you, but without the masks and the clothes you look very," The blush is back on Victor's cheeks, stronger than before, and it's a very pretty shade of pink, Yuuri notes, "um, very different."

Yuuri has no idea what to say to that, no idea how to react. Is Victor complimenting him? Or is he saying Yuuri should never show his face in public? Is he that ugly? Oh, to hear something like that from Victor Nikiforov himself...

"So cute underneath it all, isn't he?" Phichit wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulders.

Yuuri squawks at the sudden touch, but the noise he makes turns into a gurgling screech when Victor nods his head and adds, "Yes. Very."

This is all a dream, Yuuri thinks then. There is no way this can be real. He doesn't even need to try to convince himself, because, honestly? What else could it be other than a dream? Victor Nikiforov would never call him cute. Hell, there is maybe like four people in the world who would. And Victor Nikiforov is _not_ among them. No, definitely not–

"I wasn't lying, you know," Victor says, snatching Yuuri's attention back to himself again. "About you fitting my brand. If– I mean, I know you're probably busy with your own work, but if you ever want to model, I'd love to make something for you."

Phichit, the amazing friend that he is, must sense the direction Yuuri's thoughts are heading, because he sneaks his hand behind Yuuri's back and pinches his shoulder. Hard. Yuuri bites his lip to suppress a hiss, but the pain helps ground him.

Also, it convinces him of how real everything that happening is, which is... crazy.

Victor Nikiforov knows him, Victor Nikiforov thinks he's cute, Victor Nikiforov offers to design for him? What is even happening in this world?

It's only when Victor's smile becomes a little strained on his face, does Yuuri realize that the man is still waiting for his reply.

Blushing fiercely and dying of embarrassment, Yuuri chokes out: "I'll, um, I'll consider it."

The smile that graces Victor's face at that is blinding. Yuuri doesn't think he could blush any harder than he already is, but his face sure proves him wrong. He makes a little noise at the back of his throat, because _who even allowed this man to be so beautiful_ , but it all gets lost in the loud clap of Phichit's hands, which he uses to draw their attention.

Phichit grins a silly, wide grin.

"Now then," he says. "Let's talk business, shall we?"

"Oh!" Victor unfreezes as well. "Yes, let's do that! Come on, I'll show you to the casting room."

Phichit moves to follow him, so Yuuri steps back.

"Good luck," he quickly says. "I'll just, I'll just sit here and wait until you're done."

"Sure you don't want to give the model life a try, Yuuri?" Phichit teases, but when Yuuri vehemently shakes his head, he gives up with a smile. "Okay then, I'll be back in a jiffy."

Yuuri doesn't watch them go, and he doesn't see the look Victor gives him before he directs Phichit to the right door. Yuuri turns on his heel and power-walks to the nearest couch, where he slumps against the soft pillows, grabs one throw pillow and smushes it against his face to muffle the weirdest noise of frustration, embarrassment and incredulity he has ever made.

The receptionist gives him an odd look from where she sits behind her desk, but Yuuri can't even care. He tips his head back and rests it against the back of the couch, staring up at the blue ceiling.

Blue, like Victor's eyes.

Blue, like Yuuri's new dress.

" _Oh_ ," Yuuri gives softly.

Somehow, suddenly, he knows what he needs to do.

And... it may be the best day of his life. Maybe.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [banner and art](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/179974681787/littorella-draped-in-your-love-i-breathe-read) made by the talented [littorella](https://littorella.tumblr.com/) GO GIVE IT SOME LOVE!!! IT'S SO STUNNING AHHH!!!!  
> [dress from viktor & rolf's spring 2010 ready-to-wear collection](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/179974681787/littorella-draped-in-your-love-i-breathe-read) ...are you ready to wear that? ;3c
> 
> also:  
> [Yūgen (Japanese):](https://www.theschooloflife.com/thebookoflife/untranslatable-words/) gives a name to a mood in which one feels that the universe as a whole possesses a mysterious, elusive, but real, beauty. Moonlight, snow on distant mountains, birds flying very high in the evening sky and watching the sun rise over the ocean all feed this sensibility.
> 
> if you've made it this far, thank you for reading! and please stay along for the rest of the story bc there's a full 90k of it and I'm excited to share ❤️ updates will be up every second day, so see you the day after tomorrow~ ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

Phichit gets the job.

Victor is only one of the five votes Phichit needs to be accepted into the line-up, but he says yes immediately when asked. It's partially because Phichit is a really good fit for his fall collection and Victor can already envision him in that beautiful mustard jacket he has just finished working on last week. The other part of Victor's decision, however, is far less objective and not at all professional, since he secretly hopes that maybe Phichit could bring his lovely friend with him to one of the fittings and, finally, the big show in Milan.

Although... It would only make sense for Yuuri to be there anyway, no? As the head designer of Yuugen he has surely already received the invite–

Victor groans and knocks his forehead on the table he's sitting at. Twice, for good measure.

"So you told one of the biggest designers in the current fashion industry that he could be a good fit for your brand," Chris recounts the story Victor has just finished recalling between the multiple attacks of embarrassment.

His back is turned to Victor where he's browsing through the different clothes racks in the workroom, and it's the only thing that allows Victor to still retain some pride. Otherwise, he'd probably just crawl under this very table and never leave.

"Big deal," Chris decides with a shrug. "There are worse things to say. And you are only the best designer of the decade, so if you ask me that was a very fine compliment. How did he react?"

"He was so embarrassed, Chris," Victor whines. "He said he'll consider it, but, gosh, he looked so mortified, but cute? That fluffy hair and those cheeks! They looked so soft! And his blush, he was blushing all the time, you know? I was almost scared he was going to burst, but it was so unfairly cute, too? And when he looked at me it was just like _wow_... You wouldn't believe it."

"Yes, I would," Chris says... and, yeah, Victor can agree with that, because Chris is one of Victor's oldest friends who has seen some of Victor's bumbling attempts at romance before, so, sure, he can probably believe that.

"But he's not the first cute face that tickled your muse, so what gives? Why him? Why now?" Chris lets the question hang, before he barges on with what he truly wants to say: "I'm all for the big romance, don't get me wrong, but you have the fall collection to finish. Shouldn't you be focusing on that before offering random strangers your services? Even if those strangers are incredible handsome, or cute, or internationally known reclusive designers who _never_ show their faces around people of importance."

Victor sighs, a pitiful sound even to his own ears.

There is no answer to these questions that he can give without revealing how drained, how devoid of inspiration he recently feels. Chris says that Yuuri 'tickled Victor's muse' and maybe he's right, maybe he did, but Victor also knows that something is different this time. It seems more than that.

He hasn't truly paid much attention to what has been going on around him, not in a while. People have always adored him, always looked up to him, so that is what he grew used to, but no one ever thought of how much that kind of popularity took from Victor himself. It took from his personality, from his inspiration, from his freedom of creativity, and before he realized, he was locked in the vicious cycle of struggling to get new surprising ideas from somewhere, _anywhere_ , because he could no longer spin them from the thin air.

The thin air got drained.

There was nothing there anymore, and nothing in Victor's heart or soul that he could draw on. In return that bred frustration, it caused undue stress, and little by little it alienated Victor even further from everyone else. From the man who has always been at the top of the fashion world, to a desperate designer, fighting tooth and nail to keep his content on a certain standard... Victor has fallen.

And yet, the funniest thing is, that he's the only one who thinks so. He's the only one who noticed the subtle decline, apart from a few others, that is. And it's oddly hilarious to think about, in a way that a tragedy can bring about hysteria, because that is how Victor feels now. Tired, worn-out, resigned...

Until Yuuri Katsuki enters his life and, how Chris has put it, 'tickled his muse'.

It's not just a tickling that has been done to him, because a person has not inspired Victor during their first meeting in years. Many, many years, in fact and... Since their meeting those scant three days ago, Victor has already made two new pieces for a yet unnamed collection, completely disregarding the last two looks he needs to complete for the fall line.

In terms of motivation, inspiration, even the most mundane things like his mood, appetite and good night's sleep, Victor can't help but see improvements. It feels a little silly to attribute all of it to just one person, but what else could it be? What else could have a hold strong enough to make him open his eyes?

"I have no idea why it's so..."

Victor makes an incoherent noise and throws his hands up in the air. There is no existing word he knows to describe what meeting Yuuri has done to him.

"Love?" he tries.

Chris snorts. "Oh, darling. Please don't go all Georgi on me. I will _not_ be handing you tissues when the boy breaks your heart without even knowing how high your expectations are."

"What heart, I don't have a heart," Victor mumbles in monotone.

It's what everyone he dates tries to tells him. No heart, just work. No love, just business. And it's all a lie, Victor thinks, it's all an excuse to leave, because if it's Victor's fault for working too much, for not making time for them, but leaving the moment inspiration strikes, then... maybe they're right. And they're right to leave him, too.

"Hey, none of that," Chris chides him in a harder voice. "You have a perfectly functional heart and that heart will one day find its matching pair, just give it time."

Victor grunts, unconvinced, but Chris carries on without his input.

"And you may want to check your phone," he says and it's only then that Victor looks up.

He left his phone on the table, but it's no longer there. It's in Chris' hand instead. Victor watches how Chris expertly cracks his password, not entirely surprised at how easy that went, only to hear Chris whistle at whatever he sees there.

"Okay, now this is a cute one," he says.

Victor doesn't even need to know what he's looking at to ask: "Another picture?"

"Another?" Chris repeats and Victor sees him scroll up, and up, and up, until the very beginning of the messaging window.

There are multiple photos for him to go through. Eight, in fact. Victor knows. He has counted them, has looked at them... far too many times than he should've. He would probably feel at least some degree of shame for such unprofessional behaviour if this was anyone else, but the subject of these photos is always the same: a beautiful dark-haired man with blue-rimmed glasses, and the sweetest smile in the entire world, which makes Victor's heart do silly, silly things he hasn't felt in a very long time.

And he can't help himself from wanting to see more.

"Okay, who is this and why is he sending you these?" Chris asks. "And why did you not lead with that? Forget Yuuri Katsuki, Victor, come on. Dish out the deets!"

He pulls up a chair and sits directly opposite of Victor, who doesn't know whether he should laugh or just brush this entire situation off. Chris looks so bright then, like a child almost, ready to play. With a soft laugh, Victor picks himself off the table and takes the phone from Chris' hands.

The most recent picture stares him in the face: and it's a cute face of Yuuri Katsuki mid-laugh, flushed, and with glasses pushed up halfway onto his forehead as he tries to brush the tears of laughter from his warm, beautiful brown eyes.

"So?" Chris asks again. "Who's the smiley face for?"

Realizing that he's smiling – which he shouldn't be, because there is nothing to smile about, really, not even the absolutely precious face of Yuuri Katsuki – Victor locks his phone again and clears his throat, but he can't deny the happy twist in his stomach. There is just something so precious about Yuuri Katsuki's blush and smile... Victor can't really explain it.

"So we had that casting call a few days ago, remember?" he starts.

Chris gives him a pointed look, because that's exactly what they have been just talking about. Victor nods.

"Yeah, so Yuuri Katsuki's friend got cast for my fall show in Milan. And when I called him to tell him the good news, he got my number and... well, you saw for yourself."

"Yuuri Katsuki's friend," Chris repeats slowly. "Okay. Yes. Let's lead with that. So you... _personally_ called a model to confirm he got the job, even when you normally push away all responsibility onto others, and now that same model you _personally_ called from your _personal_ number is sending you rather _personal_ pics of himself? Just like that?"

Chris does not need to be grinning the way he is, because his amusement is clearly felt in the words alone, but he does because he's an amazing friend like that. A blush stings Victor's cheeks without his consent, but he can't really be mad about it. He did all of which Chris is accusing him, except just one thing...

"It's not his pictures," Victor says.

He unlocks his phone and opens a particularly nice photo he got the same day he talked to Phichit first: one of Yuuri's soft face as he probably was settling down to sleep or has just woken up, could be either. Yuuri's hair is a messy mop, sticking in various directions, but he has a hand running through it and pushing the fringe back so that his beautiful, warm eyes seem even more striking against the width of his forehead. His lips are full and parted, quirked into a little smile that is both sweet and secretive.

He looks like a model. It's a candid shot, taken with a phone most likely, but Yuuri _looks like a model_. Victor still cannot believe his mistake, but with evidence like that he feels slightly justified.

"This," Victor says as he taps the screen with his fingernail, "is Yuuri Katsuki, Chris. Phichit's best friend _and_ the creative designer of Yuugen."

It's quite a satisfying turning of tables that it's Victor who now gets to smugly watch Chris' face turn from amusement to surprise, admiration, then deep appreciation, until finally the man looks Victor in the eye and says:

"Okay, I can see the potential for love."

Victor's lips quirk at that, but he doesn't give into a smile. He doesn't need to fuel Chris' need to hook him up with people, honestly. He can find a date himself, if he wants to. Which he doesn't. Or, at least, he hasn't wanted it for a long, long while...

Victor looks at the upside down picture of Yuuri.

It's ridiculous, he thinks, to be attracted to someone who he has only really seen once. Yuuri was wearing every-day clothes, just some sweats and a t-shirt, not at all stylised or extravagant like he is known for dressing at the many fashion gatherings they all need to endure during the year.

And yet he still managed to look good. Cute. Irresistible, really.

So much that Victor has made a complete baboon out of himself. Twice.

"I also may or may not have asked Phichit for Yuuri's number," Victor mumbles, blushing again, and blushing harder when Chris' rambunctious laughter fills the room.

"Oh wow, you're gone," Chris judges and Victor can only sigh at it again, this time with a deep ache od someone mooning after the impossible. Chris isn't wrong, to be quite fair. "So do you have a plan? Are you going to woo him? I can already see the news headlines: "The Brangelina of the fashion world, VK joins in arms, and hearts, with the mysterious–"

"Oh, shut it," Victor groans. "I don't even _know_ him. Phichit didn't give me the number and we only met once. Even at the big events we never spoke a word to each other! What do you expect me to do? Waltz up to him at – oh, I don't know, _the Met Gala_ – and ask him out in front of all the people and the cameras?"

Chris' grin is sharp, sharper than any scissors Victor has ever held in his hands.

"Well," Chris purrs, "it could work your way, but... What would you say to a little party, Mr. Nikiforov?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

A party, Victor thinks.

A party.

This, whatever it is, Victor decides only a scant two weeks later as he steps out of his car onto the red carpet that spreads up over the marblesque staircase of Chris' outside-town villa, is not _a party_. It's a fucking _gala_.

"A charity thing," Chris explains with an exaggerated eyeroll when Victor first sees him.

He seizes Victor under the arm, puts a new glass of champagne in his hand and drags him further inside.

"You know my mother loves those. And it's nice to give back to the community every once in a while. It's like killing two birds with one stone." He shoots Victor a smile over his shoulder, a teasing one that makes his eyes sparkle in the chandelier lights when he adds: "Or, rather, three birds, if we include the true reason for this whole performance."

"Is he already here?" Victor asks, looking around the crowd. "He said he'll come, right?"

There are many people present, most of whom Victor recognizes and greets with a smile and a simple nod, but he knows that as soon as Chris leaves his side he will have to get around and mingle. Oh joy.

"He confirmed, yes," Chris says. "Don't worry, he'll be here! You'll probably notice his entrance, too. It's hard to miss something that gets all heads turning."

"Point taken," Victor agrees, thinking back to Yuuri's extravagant designs. "I'm just... nervous. What if he doesn't remember me? Or, or, what if he hates me? Chris, _oh my God_ , what if he does? I told him he looks like _a model_!"

"And that was a compliment," Chris reminds him. Before Victor can insist that Yuuri could've taken it the wrong way, Chris tuts at him. "I know you want this to go right, but you need to calm down. Just talk to the guy, okay? Test out the waters, see if you're compatible. And breathe, darling, in and out. In and out."

Victor does as directed, trying to give a break to his already elevated heartbeat. He takes a sip of the champagne, brushes invisible dust off his sleeve and sets his shoulders straight.

"Better," Chris tells him. He pats him on the shoulder in clear approval. "Now, I'm going to go back to greeting people and you enjoy yourself before your Cinderella makes it to the ball."

"He's not–"

The amused look in Chris' eye shuts him up. Chris blows Victor a kiss before he walks away with a sway to his hips that makes the shimmer on his pants look insanely good. With a professional's eye, Victor trails his gaze after him, quite content that his creation is moving so well. But, to be fair, anything he'd put on Chris would move well, he thinks. Like Marc Jacobs once said, " _Clothes mean nothing unless someone lives in them_ ," and Victor can't agree more – Chris makes all of his clothes feel so bright and alive, even if he isn't the intended model. That's just the spark of personality and that something special that happy people posses, that glow, the strength of their lives.

It's something Victor can't help but be envious of, but it is not a bitter envy. It's a sad one, because he knows that while he could make the most beautiful garments, which people would kill over, he would never be able to wear them with the proper liveliness they deserve. Not now, not how he currently is.

He takes another sip of the champagne and turns to make his own way through the ballroom, which has now been turned into an auction room. On the very end Victor can see a stage with an unmistakable dais that one of the Giacomettis will take to lead the charity auction during which they will sell some of their own collection of wines, a few pieces of clothing snatched last minute from a few designer friends like Victor himself, and – Victor's personal favourite – Yuuri Katsuki's spring 2018 handcrafted mask.

To say Victor isn't hoping to snatch it for himself would be a lie, but he knows there will be many other bids on the incredible work of art Yuuri's hands have created. He is ready for a fight, wherever it may come from, because a Yuuri Katsuki original mask is not only worth every penny, it's also worth far more when it carries sentimental value, and this one does.

Apparently, Yuuri admitted in one of the interviews for his spring collection that this one was inspired by one of his idols. So when Victor saw a photo of it, and recognized the beautiful allegory to one of his own works... he could only hope that he was the idol Yuuri has mentioned. And, as such, it would not do for him to pass up on paying his tribute to Yuuri as well.

However important acquiring that mask is to him, Victor's main bidding will be on a much different item. A more precious gem than all those embellishing Yuuri's mask. Something that no amount of money could probably get him, unless he wished to spend it on illegal measures.

One Yuuri Katsuki's phone number.

And maybe his heart, but only if he's lucky.

The moment Victor steps further into the room, he hears them: the whispers. So excited, so disturbed. It's in that moment that he knows, and as he turns around to look at the entrance where Chris is leading new guests inside, Victor can feel his own heart flutter in his chest.

They say love feels like butterflies. They say it's soft and cute, and warm. 

To Victor, who takes in the feathers and the mask and the walk that speaks both of confidence and self-deprecation; to that Victor love feels like a vulture descending on his body with an aim of an arrow. It whistles as it arches and hurts when it pierces his heart, a fine tip of it covered in the poison that must be, Victor has no doubt, love.

Because Yuuri Katsuki notices him in the crowd of faces turned towards him and the way his lips quirk in a smirk has nothing in common with the sweet man Victor knows form the pictures Phichit has sent him. This Yuuri Katsuki has his game face on, his mask, too, and he is ready to play by his own rules. Rules, which Victor knows nothing about, but despite that...

He's willing to take his chance. He's willing to play the game.

Before he actually can do as he plans, Yuuri is intercepted by the press. The pout that makes it onto Victor's face halfway morphs into a smile, fake and stiff, when he is taken by the arm by no one other than Lilia Baranovskaya, the chief editor of _Vogue_.

"Your collection," Lilia says without a greeting or any preamble, just like she's prone to doing. All business, always business, sometimes fashion. "Why isn't it done yet?"

"Why is the sky blue, Lilia?" Victor asks back. When the woman only gives him a stern look, he sighs. "I'll be done in time, don't worry. Have I ever not delivered anything less than what you _don't_ expect?"

Lilia says nothing to that, but she does not release his arm. She pulls him through the crowds that part before them. It's difficult to say who they do it for, truly, him or her, but Victor is willing to bet all his fortune and company that Lilia could have a sea part for her with only an elegant arch of her eyebrow. That little quirk has already ruined countless of designers over the years, after all.

"Where are we going?" Victor asks, smiling at a woman they pass by, who blushes when their eyes meet over Lilia's shoulder. "Anyone important you want me to meet?"

"Don't ask silly questions if you already know the answer," Lilia tells him, but after a pause, she adds: "Celestino Cialdini expressed a desire to meet you. Apparently, he is curious as to why someone like you is trying to poach the brand model from one of his best students. Care to give an official statement to one of my reporters?"

The sharp, hawk-like gaze lands on Victor, who cannot for the love of him remember when he even tried to do such a thing.

"I am never against sitting down with you, Lilia, but, poaching? Really?" he replies. "Why would I ever want to poach anyone? I can have all the models I want, whenever I want. That's the luxury of being me, having built up my name into this. Why would I even–"

He stops short when he finally sees Celestino standing a little ways from the snack table. He's nursing a half-full glass of champagne, while at his side Victor spots... Phichit.

"Oh!" he realizes the mistake instantly. "You meant Phichit Chulanont. That wasn't poaching. I can assure you it was all willing and consensual."

Lilia's face does not betray her thoughts, but the straightening of her neck and shoulders tells Victor clearly that she'd rather not hear about his most recent conquest. He chuckles lightly at the misunderstanding, which garners her attention again, and he smoothly adds:

"Don't worry, Lilia, this is strictly professional."

Her eyes give back a warning, "It better be," but when she speaks again, her words are once more devoid of anything other than steel.

"I expect the first review of your fall collection to be with us," she says in a voice that knows no denial, and Victor can only incline his head at it in confirmation.

It's been like this for years and, some might even say that, Victor's career was started by none other than Lilia herself. She took him under her wing, introduced him to Yakov, and to others who played an important role in his growth to success, and this is the interest he pays for that help. After all, it would take only one article from her to ruin that which he has built and, while Victor might have desperately tried to prevent that in the past, now... well, now he could care more, but sadly he doesn't.

Yet, he cares enough to not object to her in public and so directly.

"Of course, Lilia," he agrees, a fake smile on his face. "I can never say no to you, you know that."

A sharp nod is all he gets in return, before Lilia's heels click to a stop right next to Celestino.

"Allow me to make the introductions," Lilia says. "This is Celestino Cialdini, the executive director of Yuugen, as I am sure you're aware. And this, Celestino, is Victor Nikiforov, the talent behind the VN's success."

The praise is given in a no-nonsense voice, but Victor does take it to heart anyway. It is rare for Lilia to speak highly of anyone's achievements, so to hear that this is the way she has chosen to introduce Victor to the man who is all but a fashion godfather of the one Victor is trying very hard to impress tonight... it tickles him in all the right places.

With an honest smile for once, Victor shakes Celestino's hand.

"It is lovely to finally meet you," he says. "I can't believe we've been in the business for so long and have never had the chance to meet before."

"And what a coincidence that we only meet now after you hired Phichit for your fall line," Celestino says, serious. "He tells me you have some surprises planned for us? I wonder if this is one of them?"

"No, no, definitely not!" Victor laughs, strained. "It was Phichit who actually came to the casting last minute, so I might actually ask you the same?" He sneaks a glance at Phichit, who is fighting really hard to keep a grin off his face. "Are you planning to ruin me? Sabotage, perhaps? Right from the inside of my own show? Or maybe you want to sue me for the breach of contract? That would be quite an ingenious scheme, I must admit. Chapeaux bas, Mr. Cialdini."

Celestino's lips twitch once before his bellowing laughter fills the air. He claps Victor on the shoulder.

"Okay, okay, I see you, Victor Nikiforov," he says. "You're not one to play, I get it. But, mind you, if you were to be planning something unethical..."

"...then it would be my fight to pick, Celestino," a voice finishes for him, and when they both turn their eyes there, it's unmistakable who has spoken.

Yuuri Katsuki, in his gray-maroon shirt with pheasant feathers streaked around his collar as if he were a king boasting of his hunt among the mere men who cannot reach such height of glory, yet hidden behind a mask of glimmering dark pearls, mysterious, grandiose, he stands there like a vision sent upon them to feast their eyes on and revere.

If Victor was not in the company of others, he's fairly sure he would kneel before him and worship him like he deserves to be.

"While I have no doubts that you could, Yuuri, a little intimidation from higher up the money chain has never hurt anyone before," Celestino answers while Victor tries to put himself together from his awing experience with little success.

Yuuri's lips quirk into a small smile, which crinkles the eyes hidden behind the mask, when he says, "And I'm grateful for your patronage, Celestino, as always. But I think Victor is only trying to help us out here. There's no need to treat him with so much suspicion."

"Of course!" Victor agrees, unable to look away from Yuuri, who has captured all of his attention the moment he entered the conversation. "I admire Yuugen's work, so far be it for me to do anything to jeopardize your progress."

Celestino hums, a content little sound, but Victor hardly notices. After all, Yuuri is standing right by his side, defending him, and the night could not be going any better... right?

It's in the moment that he thinks so, that Phichit climbs onto his tip toes to whisper something into Yuuri's ear. Not a very polite thing to do in the company of others, but they all seem to be friends, and Victor is already all too familiar with Phichit's antics, so no one comments on it. And it's a good thing, too, because clearly whatever it is that Phichit has told him must be guided by Victor's lucky star, or his guardian angel, or whatever divine being is watching over him.

Yuuri's eyes find his the moment Phichit moves away. An electric current courses through Victor's entire body, but he stills his heart, steels his nerves, and–

"Would you care to take a walk with me, Victor?" Yuuri asks while Phichit's face splits into a satisfied grin, and Victor ends up staring at it far longer than is appropriate.

That must have been Phichit's plan all along: the pictures, the comments, the tags on Instagram... and now this. It's hard to tell if it is done with honest intentions, but Victor fools himself into believing that Yuuri would not play along with this for malicious reasons. He has nothing to base his speculation on but the sweet, darling flush on Yuuri's face from their first meeting, which shone with refreshing honesty and a beauty beyond compare.

The Yuuri now is lacking of it, and true enough, Victor finds himself missing it, but he also finds himself even more resolved to steal into Yuuri's heart.

Only once Phichit makes a little impatient head tilt in Yuuri's direction, does Victor realize that he has been ignoring him. He flushes brilliantly in embarrassment, partly at having been caught, partly at making Yuuri wait. For all good that it did for him to dream of Yuuri's blush, he ended up being the one to wear it instead – the joke's on him, truly.

He coughs in his hand to clear his throat, so that he doesn't squeak out his answer.

"Ah, yes, sure," he says, smiling at Yuuri. "That would be, um, that would be nice."

The way Phichit has to hold back his laughter as Victor and Yuuri leave them makes sure Victor's blush stays firmly in place. And Yuuri's presence at his side does definitely _not_ help that, or the wild stuttering of Victor's heart, which thumps in his chest like a wartime drum roll. Thump, thump, tha-thump... straight into Yuuri Katsuki's talented, beautiful hands.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [steampunk feather collar](https://metamorphqc.com/products/steampunk-feather-collar)  
> [alexis mabille fall 2011 couture](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2011-couture/alexis-mabille/slideshow/collection#12)
> 
> pls imagine yuuri's shirt as a mix between these! aaaand... a picture of his actual shirt will be up in one of the chapters to follow, pinky promise~
> 
> also, I realize this was a fairly slow chapter but if you know me, you probably also know how much I love my calm before the storm moments, so... look forward to more? ;3c


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

"I have to thank you," Yuuri says as they walk through the room after excusing themselves from the others.

Victor looks at him, confused, and he can't help but look longer, let his gaze linger, because there is just so much to admire. Yuuri's walk, Yuuri's clothes, Yuuri's face – the subtle change of his mimicry in the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. All these small, tiny things that are visible where his mask doesn't reach, but which speak volumes against the rest of him that remains hidden and shrouded in mystery.

Victor soaks it all up, starved and reverent.

"For hiring Phichit," Yuuri explains his previous thought. "He's been wanting to branch out from Yuugen, try different styles, different things, but no one wanted him. Apparently, he's too closely involved with me to have his own style. Whatever _that_ means."

"Whoever said that was an idiot then," Victor answers plainly. "Phichit's skin tone and eyes can compliment so many different looks... I could straight away fit him in like six from my new collection and it'd work perfectly for the theme I'm going for. If, as a designer, you can't adapt your clothes to different models, then honestly, you have failed at your one true job. Clothes are made to be worn, loved, and appreciated by the real people out there, not to hang on a mannequin forever. Phichit deserves better than to be treated like that."

When he takes a chance to look at him again, Yuuri's smile is softer than anything Victor has seen until now and it catches him so off-guard that he almost trips. His heart, oh, that definitely does trip – a wild little stutter in his chest that fills him with warmth.

"I trusted that you of all people would be able to see his potential," Yuuri admits. "That's why I brought him to you and... I'm glad I wasn't wrong."

Victor quickly takes a sip of his champagne to mask the unconscious noise that leaves his throat at the veiled compliment. As silly as it may be to feel so happy to have Yuuri's acknowledgement, Victor doesn't fight the joy that spills onto his cheeks in a precious blush. Why should he, when it makes him feel so... so _alive_?

Not for the first time, he's a little jealous of the beautifully crafted mask that adorns Yuuri's face, though. It gives Yuuri both, the ethereal feel of someone who is not ought to be touched by mere mortals and the safety to keep his face expressionless in front of any crowd. It's a luxury that not many can afford, and even less carry with the grace it requires. Victor doubts he'd be able to do so, but Yuuri...

Yuuri is carrying it brilliantly.

Against the eyes of the people around them, he's poised and unshaken, but Victor remembers their first meeting and he knows that underneath the mask Yuuri is anything but. The confidence that comes with hiding your face... The feeling of freedom, which is gifted by crafting a mask to cover up all your insecurities... Victor can see the allure of it.

Oh, how many times he wished he could just hide away from his life, to be just Victor, a no one on a street full of nobodies. Would he be happier if he could disappear just like that? Would he be happier if no one asked for his sign, no one recognized him, no one whispered behind his back about how handsome he is as if he couldn't hear them?

Probably, possibly... Yet somehow, even with a mask, Victor has a feeling it would all be the same torture for him. For Yuuri, though, it seemed to work more than perfectly.

Straight shoulders, lean back, daring feathers around the collar of his shirt, and finally: the lace mask embellished with black crystals that glimmer whenever he looks at him.

Yuuri is a picture of true, unashamed beauty and a confidence that settles around him like a cloak of royal purple – a stunning combination that makes Victor just a little bit breathless.

"I really like your mask this time," Victor says, fighting to keep his voice only slightly lovestruck.

"Only this time?" Yuuri returns and–

 _Oh_ , Victor's heart stutters when he realizes that Yuuri is flirting _back_. He must be, because his head is tilted towards Victor and his brown eyes sparkle in the chandelier lights like gorgeous ambers in the summer sunlight. His lips are curved over the edge of the champagne glass as he takes a sip, and it seems to be just as teasing as his words when he licks his lips lightly afterwards.

He looks so spectacular that for a second there Victor forgets himself.

"I like all of them, yes, but what I like the most is your real face. It's a shame you never show it. You're... you're very beautiful, Yuuri. I wasn't joking when I said you look like a model."

All it takes is Yuuri's lips parting on a gasp for Victor to really think about what he's saying. He makes a soft noise of alarm, blushing all over again, because the least thing he wants to do is offend Yuuri _again_. Or worse, make him think that he's some kind of an asshole that only ever judges looks over people's character.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate," Victor quickly adds. "I was only trying to say that you're cute without– Wait, that's not– I mean, I wanted to say that I think your features are exceptionally–"

"Did you mean it?" Yuuri asks softly, his face turned away.

Victor can't see much more than the strong slide of his jaw and the corner of his mouth, but it's Yuuri's ear that betrays him. The tip of it looks like it has been spray-dyed pink, a lovely shade among the dark hair and the equally as dark fabric of his mask.

"I did. I _do_. I, I find you really attractive."

"So do I," Yuuri whispers.

"I'm sorry?" Victor blinks, convinced he has heard wrong. "I didn't quite catch that."

Yuuri turns to him, and with the mask it's difficult to tell, but it's in Yuuri's eyes that Victor sees the tender shyness and soft spoken embarrassment from their first meeting, when Yuuri explains:

"I find you attractive, too, Victor."

And maybe it's a combination of all the things that make Yuuri who he is – the shy stranger Victor remembers from the casting; the fashion icon on the pages of the magazines with his extravagant outfits and unconventional masks; the sweet, flirty, masked man that stands before him now – but Victor cannot help but find him even more irresistible than he has before. It's a hard thing to top the feelings Victor has already been nurturing deep in his heart, because Victor's phone is full with precious pictures of Yuuri that make him shine like a beacon of hope for Victor's nonexistent love life, yet Yuuri does it with a single smile which he gives as the silence grows between them.

"Dance," Victor chokes out, heart full and throat tight. "We should, we should dance?"

"Oh!" Yuuri startles. His eyes widen when he looks to the side at the small dancing space where only a couple of people sway to the music while everyone else is gossiping away in small groups around the hall. "I don't think my clothes are fit for dancing..." he finally admits.

He's right, of course. The piece he's wearing, well, the shirt mostly, is a stunning thing on him, really. It is, however, highly impractical, as all avant-garde clothing is at its core. A lingering suspicion makes it into Victor's head that maybe Yuuri dresses in such eccentric creations _because_ he doesn't wish to entertain any fools who come his way. It is, after all, a splendid excuse to decline unwanted admirers, since none would dare destroy a creation this magnificent.

Just when Victor is starting to feel silly for even asking, Yuuri lifts his champagne glass to his lips and drinks it all in a few gulps. He leaves the empty thing with a passing waiter and turns to Victor, a determined set to his jaw.

"Let's do it," Yuuri says, ruining all of Victor's guilt in one go, and offers Victor his hand. "Let's dance."

"What about your clothes?" Victor asks, but he doesn't waste any time in placing his palm over Yuuri's. "I'd hate to ruin something so beautiful."

"Are you insulting me, Victor Nikiforov?"

Victor's heart picks up at that. "No, no, of course not–"

"Because I am not just some tailor whose work relies on pins and hot glue," Yuuri continues as if he hasn't heard a word from Victor's mouth. His eyes gleam like molten copper when he pulls on Victor's hand and, dumbstruck, Victor follows – right into Yuuri's arms. "I'm Yuuri Katsuki. And when I make a garment, it will withstand far more than a simple dance."

Breathless, Victor stares into Yuuri's beautifully crafted mask. He wishes he could see Yuuri's face, see the expression he's making, because the silly hope that flutters in his chest does not listen to reason. Victor tries to convince himself that there is nothing in Yuuri's behaviour that should be giving him any more incentive to come onto him, but... there is. _There is._

In Yuuri's eyes is an admiration that only comes second to the passion which burns in them from deep within. In Yuuri's lips, which smile at Victor, tender and soft, but ready to pull him into mischief and trouble in a single quirk, is a promise of a thrill and an adventure that Victor cannot pass on. In Yuuri's touch, where his arms wrap around Victor and where Yuuri's hand lays against Victor's back, is a gentleness and strength – two emotions of such conflicting tempers that Victor's heart mellows at the thought of which one to succumb to first.

And Yuuri, Yuuri chooses for him, when he takes the first step of their dance and leads Victor across the dance floor with easy, graceful movements that pull them together flawlessly, seam against seam.

"You dance well," Victor says, winded beyond just dancing, and wins the award for the understatement of the year.

Each of Yuuri's little steps is measured, each shift fluid, each bend of his spine, wrists, twist of arms is perfect. He is the definition of divinity when he moves, and when he spins – of beauty, because his shirt floats and his feathers sing, and his hair trails like a black veil.

"I am classically trained," Yuuri replies, a small smile on his lips. "I think my sensei wanted me to become a danseur, but I disappointed the whole family when I decided that fashion will be the only thing for me."

Victor can't tell what expression sits on Yuuri's face behind the mask, but it takes only one look in Yuuri's eyes to see the fear and regrets glossed over them.

"I'm sure they don't think that," Victor says kindly. And when Yuuri turns his head towards him, he adds: "They must be so proud of you. I know I would be. You're an accomplished man, Yuuri. It would be foolish not to take pride in such achievements as yours."

The soft smile on Yuuri's face is enough of a thank you, but when the music takes them to the grand finale and Yuuri dips Victor down, strong arms holding him and brown, brown eyes looking into his, Victor cannot help but feel like the world is either teasing him with this perfect man only to snub Victor on the nose before he even makes his move, or this time he truly has been blessed.

He chooses to believe in good luck and good karma, and gasps at the soft tickle of feathers from Yuuri's collar on his own flushed cheek.

"Thank you, Victor," Yuuri says earnestly. "I appreciate you saying that."

"You're welcome," Victor breathes, starstruck, since that seems to be the factory settings he reverts into whenever Yuuri is concerned.

But how can he not when Yuuri's face is so close Victor can count his eyelashes – beautiful and thick, and dark. Scattered among them are speckles of stardust: glitter mascara, Victor realizes. It gives Yuuri even more of an ethereal glow, something effortless, but so striking in its simplicity that Victor shudders with the strength of his attraction.

It's far more than what it was when they met for the first time, and far more than the kindling flames of admiration and adoration he experienced over the weeks of receiving Phichit's secret pictures. This, now, it feels like a defining moment, like something is about to change and the air is sizzling with expectation of it.

With enough care to set Victor's heart into flames with want, Yuuri pulls him upwards again. The music has gone quiet now and only the sounds of conversation intrude into their little bubble. Yuuri says nothing more and neither does Victor, but soon he loses the fight against the warmth in his chest and opens his mouth.

"Say, Yuuri," he starts, "would you like to–"

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen!" a booming voice comes from the large speakers at the end of the room, interrupting Victor midway to asking out the man of his dreams. "On behalf of every single Giacometti in the building, I'd like to warmly thank you all for coming! We are lucky to have you here with us tonight!"

Yuuri's head snaps to the stage to see what is going on, but as soon as he spots Chris taking the dais to begin the first auction of the night, he turns back to Victor who never tears his eyes away from him. Yuuri's smile, as he gives it to Victor then, is a sweet, sweet thing that Victor reverently wishes to see more often than at an occasional event or two.

He needs to– Well, he has to–

"Sorry, you were saying?" Yuuri asks.

"Ah, I," Victor pauses.

He's never been one for nerves when it comes to his shows and his work, but his personal life... well, that is a whole different matter and Victor feels it acutely all over again as he struggles to get his voice to sound as smooth as people expect of him. 

"I wondered if you'd like to go out with me sometime? On a date?"

Yuuri looks so surprised that for a moment Victor thinks he's going to say no. That he isn't gay. That he is dating someone (because _of course_ he would). That he can't date a rival, to which Victor can already see a solution: he could step down, let young blood thread the runways and enjoy Yuuri's company as only Victor, not the VN money maker.

But Yuuri says none of those things. His surprise melts faster than Victor can give into his worries, but it melts into something that brings Yuuri's shoulders down and makes him look away from Victor.

Fear strikes Victor's heart even before Yuuri speaks and it only doubles once he does.

"Are you teasing me?" Yuuri finally asks, resignation lacing his voice. "Phichit told you that I have a crush on you, didn't he? Look, I don't mean to be rude, but–"

"You have a crush on me?"

The fear halts somewhat and only incredulous awe stays in its place. Somehow, suddenly, the world is so bright, so full, so vivid, that Victor can't do anything but open his mouth and watch Yuuri in a transfixed shock. To think he could be so lucky–

Yuuri's eyes narrow at him. "If you are the sort of person to play with a fan's feelings like you're doing now, then I will make sure to squash it as soon as possible."

Victor gasps and grabs Yuuri's arm to keep him from leaving, even though Yuuri hasn't taken a step yet.

Wildly, Victor looks around. The people have their attention firmly set on Chris, who leads the first of the charity auctions of the night. It's the perfect time to have a moment alone while everyone else is occupied by a 1934 bottle of wine, and Victor wastes no time in pulling Yuuri with him towards the open doors that lead onto a spacious terrace.

Yuuri comes willingly despite his frown, only a step behind Victor, and it gives Victor the courage he needs to speak up once they are truly alone under the night sky.

"I wasn't teasing," Victor says.

He can feel his cheeks redden and he hopes that in the dark Yuuri might miss it, but Yuuri's eyes sparkle brilliantly in the light that falls onto the terrace from the big windows. Softly, that glow wraps around Yuuri from the back and creates a warm halo around him, much like what Victor envisions a deity would look like if they chose to grace the earth with their presence.

It's difficult to imagine that Yuuri might miss the intense flush on Victor's face as his imagination takes hold of his heart, but Victor forces himself not to think about it now. He takes a deep breath, which does nothing to calm down his racing heart, and barges on:

"I wasn't teasing, but... do you really have a crush on me? Because I– Okay, this is embarrassing, but I think I've had one since the moment I saw you at that casting."

"One what?"

"A crush," Victor explains. His cheeks burn, but he says it all. "On you. You're... you're really cute, Yuuri. And sweet. And I've loved your designs for years, so when I saw you that night, it just sort of happened."

"Oh," Yuuri gives and it's such a small thing that should be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it's that little sound that sends all of Victor's heart into a frenzy. "Does that, does that mean that your question was...?"

"Very honest, yes. And still valid. If you want to."

"Oh," Yuuri says again, and Victor feels like he might not live to hear the answer with how elevated his heartbeat is.

The clapping that reaches them from inside the ballroom is loud enough to startle them both. Yuuri twitches in place, spooked, and without even thinking Victor rests a hand on his elbow to keep him from tripping.

Not that he does.

Yuuri regains perfect balance and peers up at Victor from beneath his mask. He's biting his lip, Victor notes, and the sight steals his breath away. It's tempting to simply lean down those few precious centimetres and rest his lips against Yuuri's, but Victor won't ever do it without Yuuri's explicit consent.

So he waits for it, suffers and waits, and tries really hard to calm down his racing heartbeat, but it's all for nothing, because Yuuri is too close and he is too beautiful and too irresistible, and Victor just wants to kiss him so badly...

"I'd love that."

Victor blinks, disconnected from reality for one second, before his mind catches up with him.

"You'll go out with me?" Victor asks again.

He needs to hear this. He needs to make sure this isn't just some fantasy his desperate mind came up with...

"If you truly mean it, then... yes," Yuuri confirms.

Yuuri's head is still tilted upwards to Victor. He stands close, so close that the feathers from Yuuri's chest brush against Victor's suit with each of their breaths. It's intoxicating, this sensual game of tension. And it's even more tantalising when Victor catches Yuuri's gaze and those incredible brown eyes peer deeply into his own, blown wide as if with disbelief.

Victor finds himself unable to resist the pull and the urge to prove to himself and Yuuri, both, that this is, in fact, as real as anything else. He lifts a hand to Yuuri's face and rests it against Yuuri's jaw, while his thumb softly caresses Yuuri's bottom lip.

"Can I?" he asks, heart in his throat.

Yuuri swallows visibly. Victor can tell how weighty the little nod he gives must be, because he himself feels like his entire being is vibrating with anticipation. Once Yuuri gives it, however, Victor doesn't need to be told twice.

He leans down and–

"There you are!"

They jump apart like two naughty children caught at mischief. Victor is sure his cheeks are flushed so horribly that even in the darkness of the terrace it's completely obvious to anyone who looks at him. Yuuri's face is still covered with a mask, lucky him, and for a second time that night Victor wishes he had one just like it to keep him collected.

"I was wondering where you ran off to, but I see you were hard at work," Chris says as he sashays up to them. He winks at Victor with a face that is more satisfied than a cat's after it caught a mouse. "Care to introduce us, mon ami?"

Victor clears his throat. "Of course. This is Yuuri Katsuki, as I'm sure you are aware. And this, Yuuri, is Christophe Giacometti, our gracious host, an old friend, and the official stylist for VN."

"A pleasure to meet you," Yuuri says, polite to a fault even after Chris has interrupted them so rudely.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you," Chris purrs.

He takes Yuuri's offered hand and instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips and presses them to Yuuri's knuckles. Yuuri's eyes grow wide at it, but he doesn't say anything. He pulls his hand back a little quicker than one normally would, but that is all he does about it.

Victor, on the other hand, scowls. So when Chris turns to him with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, Victor gives him a very unamused look.

"The item you're interested in will be auctioned next," Chris tells Victor. "You might want to get inside for the bidding, but I can clearly understand if you choose not to. Some prizes are worth more than others, after all."

Victor doesn't deign to reply, so Chris turns to Yuuri instead.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight?"

"I am," Yuuri replies politely. "It's a lovely party. And a lovely cause. I'm happy to have been invited, Mr. Giacometti. Thank you for that."

"Please, call me Chris." The smile on Chris' face sweetens into something far more dangerous than it should be. "After all, we're all one big family in this industry. It's our pleasure to have you here, Yuuri, dear. Can I call you Yuuri?" When Yuuri nods, he barrels through: "Splendid! Like I said, it's our pleasure to have you, Yuuri, and it definitely is a great privilege to have one of your works with us tonight. Thank you for the contribution."

"If you're happy with my work, then I'm happy I could help." Yuuri inclines his head, to which Chris coos.

"You're such a sweet man, Yuuri. I swear, I could just eat you up whole." He laughs, and laughs harder when Victor pointedly coughs into his hand. Still cackling, Chris adds: "But, anyway, I need to go lead the auction, but I hope you two have fun for the rest of the night. If there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to let me know."

With a wave of his hand, and still chuckling, he disappears back through the glass doors.

"I'm so sorry for him. He's a horrid flirt, and a terrible tease, and he's been listening to me pining far too long to resist doing all that," Victor says to Yuuri, who only shakes his head with a little smile.

"No, that's fine. I know how friends can be. To be quite honest, I'm just waiting for Phichit to turn the corner..."

"Speaking of Phichit," Victor catches on. "You asked if he told me about your crush? He didn't. Though, I'm fairly sure he knew about mine."

"That would explain the pictures," Yuuri mumbles.

He does it mostly to himself, Victor thinks, but he cannot help asking: "What pictures?"

The way Yuuri's eyes flutter shut is as much an indication of his embarrassment as seeing him blushing would be and, Victor believes, that underneath that pretty mask Yuuri's face must be quite pink. The thought of that is like sweet honey on his heart, which swells in his chest exponentially, and... he wants to see. He badly wants to see, but–

"You haven't noticed?" Yuuri asks. "He's been sneak-taking pictures of you during all the fittings and sending them to me just to tease me."

"Oh wow, did he really?" Victor asks, a laugh slipping from him at the masterful plot Phichit has devised. "He did the same thing to me."

"What?" Yuuri turns his head to him, shocked. "Oh no, tell me he didn't..."

"But he did! I have over two dozen pictures of you on my phone and I must say, if Phichit wasn't a model I would hire him as a photographer, because every single one is _exquisite_."

The mortification in Yuuri's eyes is clear the longer Victor is talking, but he has just one more thing to say, and watching Yuuri's sweet embarrassment is oddly pleasing, so he outright says it:

"Though with such a stunning model anyone could stand behind the lens and it'd turn out just as beautiful."

"Oh my god, I can't believe this," Yuuri whispers, a hand against his mouth. "I'm going to kill him. Why would he send my pictures to you of all people? Phichit, you–"

The rapid-fire Japanese that follows confuses Victor for only a moment, but then he laughs, because that's the only appropriate response to a situation like theirs. He takes Yuuri by the arm, loops a hand underneath Yuuri's undeniably strong bicep, and guides Yuuri back into the ballroom while Yuuri is still softly mumbling curses to himself.

"Don't worry," Victor tells him, smiling. "I enjoyed the pictures very much."

Yuuri's eyes lift to him, somewhat hopeful yet disbelieving, and Victor squeezes Yuuri's arm.

"But I enjoy the real thing just a smidge more," Victor adds.

The dark of the terrace was more private, calmer, more intimate, Victor knows, but he cannot help but enjoy how the bright lighting of the ballroom allows him to see the little tip of Yuuri's ear that once again flushes pink. It's adorable and irresistible, so before Victor knows what he's doing, he's leaning over to rest his lips against it.

"I can't wait for our date," he whispers.

The little noise Yuuri makes is sweet and embarrassed, but it gets lost in the greeting to the crowd Chris makes as he once again ascends the stage. Before Victor gives his friend all the attention, he takes two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and offers one to Yuuri.

"To the future, and the unexpected," he says.

"To Phichit playing matchmaker, you mean," Yuuri replies, but he clicks his glass against Victor's in a toast.

It's difficult for Victor to hide his smile in the champagne, but then again – he doesn't want to. For the first time in so long he feels happy. Warm and buzzed on much more than just alcohol, Victor looks at Yuuri and it's clear to him what the reason for these feelings is.

Yuuri catches him looking and gives him a little smile. "So what is it that you want to bid on?"

"Something very special and dear to my heart," Victor replies just as the object is brought on stage.

"Before us," Chris announces, "we have a beautifully crafted mask, worn by Yuuri Katsuki himself at last year's Met Gala, which, if you remember, celebrated Rei Kawakubo's career in true _Comme des Garçons_ style."

At Victor's side, Yuuri shifts from one foot to another, but when people to look at him, he lifts his glass in confirmation, after which he gulps down all its contents and quickly takes another one from a nearby waiter.

"It's a stunning piece handcrafted by the man himself," Chris carries on. "It's a leather base, distressed with torch fire, and embellished with studs and crystals. A little sweet, a little dangerous, and a whole lot sexy!" Chris grins over the little laughs from the audience. "The overall value of this little thing is, ladies and gentlemen, estimated at around ten thousand dollars. So, we will start with a rather low price of three thousand. Do I have three thousand, ladies and gentlemen?"

A lady in the front quickly lifts a hand, but before she can even put it down, another voice shouts "Five thousand!" from the side, and yet another goes "Six!" from behind them. The shuddering breath Yuuri takes is not lost on Victor, and neither is the quick glance Yuuri gives him.

"I hate this," Yuuri admits when Victor asks if he's okay. "It's like all my work is worth nothing but money. It's only money, money, money... everything is always about money. I'm honoured to be thought of being worthy of all this, but that is not what I design for."

"I know what you mean," Victor hums. "Fashion should be just fashion, not collectibles in people's collections."

Yuuri nods at him, taking a swig of his champagne. He downs the whole thing in one go once again and Victor can't help his laughter when Yuuri releases a little contented sigh afterwards.

"Want to finish mine, too?" Victor offers Yuuri his glass, to which Yuuri only shrugs and downs that as well. "Wow."

"Twelve thousand dollars, ladies and gentlemen!" Chris announces from the stage. "All proceeds from this auction, and all others tonight, will go to the Blue Whale Organization, which helps to keep our waters clean and our planet hospitable, so we can still enjoy such beautiful works of art for many, many years– And yes, we have thirteen thousand, thank you, Miss Brigmayer! Do we have fourteen, anyone?"

Yuuri's hand is shaking slightly when he sets the empty glass on a waiter's tray. Victor wonders if what he's about to do will upset him, but... there's really no telling until he does it, or until he asks, and he's fairly sure that if he does ask, Yuuri's reply will be not what Victor wants.

So, the selfish man he is, Victor lifts his hand and speaks clearly over the crowd: "Twenty thousand."

"Twenty thousand, ladies and gentlemen!" Chris cheers from the stage, while Victor doesn't look away from Yuuri, who stares at him like he has grown another head. "From Victor Nikiforov himself, we have twenty thousand dollars for the Yuuri Katsuki original mask. Does anyone wish to raise up to the challenge and snatch it from Mr. Nikiforov?"

"What are you doing?" Yuuri asks, bewildered. "Victor?"

"I always wanted one of your masks," Victor explains with a somewhat sheepish smile. "You never sell them, so it was just a pipe dream, but when I heard that one of them will be auctioned today I just knew I had to get it."

"Oh my god," Yuuri whispers at the same as Chris announces: "Twenty thousand going once!"

"I hope you're not upset with me?" Victor asks, playing up his best puppy eyes.

Yuuri gives him an incredulous look. "I'm not upset, but... _why_?"

"Twenty thousand going twice!" Chris hollers with glee.

"I already told you that I always admired your work, but I also just wanted to... be close to you, I guess," Victor admits.

"No more bids? No one?" Chris asks from the stage. "Okay, I'm doing it: twenty thousand going thrice and–"

An arm grabs Victor forcefully, turning him around until his back is towards the stage and he's face to face with Yuuri, who must have climbed onto his toes to peer into Victor's face like he's doing now. Victor's breath stops in his throat, excited and unsure, but it all melts into a one powerful pang of _something_ when Yuuri leans even closer and says with far more spirit than Victor has ever seen:

"Then be close to me, Victor, but not like this. _Me_."

"–sold!" Chris cheers, banging his gavel on the sound block with a resounding _thwack_. "The Yuuri Katsuki Met Gala 2017 mask goes to Mr. Victor Nikiforov for twenty thousand dollars. Now that's what I call a good sell!"

Laughter rings around them, but Victor can't bring himself to care about any of it, because Yuuri looks at him with burning, passionate eyes that awaken the deepest desires in Victor's heart.

In that moment, public, yet so intimate, Victor realizes one thing.

In that moment, the mask wasn't the only thing sold.

Victor's silly, smitten heart was a bargain deal attached to it all along, and this one... this one went into Yuuri's hands completely for free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> the first mask, which yuuri is wearing in the chapter: alexander mcqueen's lace mask which I can't seem to find online anymore rtxdcuyvjghb  
> the second mask, which is the one auctioned: [gavin vaughn's avant-garde leather mask](http://spindlemagazine.com/2013/11/gavin-vaughn-designer/)
> 
> at some point yall will probably be fed up with all the different masks that'll pop up in this fic but... they're gorgeous? so pls suck it up and soak in this beauty? thank <3 ilu <3


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

"I can't believe you really bought it," Yuuri complains when Victor pulls him onto the dance floor once again after the auction comes to a close. The grin on Victor's face is so big, he can't even begin to hide it from Yuuri, who gives him a disapproving look every time the dance pulls them away enough for him to see it fully. "You wasted so much money on a piece of junk, I– Victor–"

"Hey," Victor interrupts wherever this is going. "Please don't insult one of my favourite designers, okay? I think that would be a deal breaker in any potential relationship we could have."

"What–" Yuuri repeats, dumbstruck, but quickly he catches on. " _Oh_."

It seems like a Yuuri thing to destroy Victor's heart with every little "Oh," he makes, but Victor loves it beyond belief. What he loves even more, however, is the tender blush that appears high on Yuuri's ears, since his cheeks are still covered by the mask. Victor quite adores this little secret tell that he has, and when he pulls Yuuri back into his arms as the music wraps around them, he presses his lips to one such ear, unable to contain the wealth of feelings inside his heart.

"You're so cute when you blush," he says.

"How do you even know I'm blushing?" Yuuri asks back, slightly bashful. "I have a mask on, you're bluffing."

"Nothing can hide from true love," Victor jokes, and then giggles at the way Yuuri's mouth drops open. "Your ears turn pink when you're embarrassed, did you know? Maybe the next mask you make will have to revise that? I admit I'll miss this, though."

"Okay," Yuuri says, his voice dry. "I got too drunk at the start of the evening and now I'm probably lying on some couch and dreaming all of this, is that it? That's the only way I can imagine this happening, it's just too much."

Everything in Victor freezes at those last words. He's heard them a lot, after all. But he never thought he'd hear them from Yuuri so soon...

They stop dancing, and even when the music keeps going, they stand among the dancing pairs, just looking at each other. Yuuri's hand is still resting on Victor's shoulder and the warmth of his palm seeps into Victor's through the clothes, but that little comfort is not enough anymore to keep the demons at bay.

"Am I too much?" Victor asks after a moment.

"You?"

Yuuri laughs, shaking his head, but he doesn't say anything else to explain. His answer isn't what Victor expects or knows what to do with, so he frowns. Before he can say anything else though, Yuuri pulls him off the dance floor when a dancing couple almost crashes into them. They step off to the side and like magic, they run into another waiter who offers them more champagne. Victor declines, but Yuuri grabs a full glass and downs it almost in one go. Again.

"If you keep drinking like this, you really will pass out on some couch," Victor tries for a joke, still a little unsettled from before.

"Maybe that'd be for the best. I'm way more fun drunk than sober, from what I hear."

"I'm having a lot of fun with you now," Victor offers, but Yuuri's lips quirk at that in a smirk that is both self-deprecating and challenging at once.

"Who says I'm not drunk already?" Yuuri drinks the rest of his glass and presses the chilled glass to his cheek over the mask. "I think I might be. And you're just a hallucination my drunk brain came up with."

Victor wastes no time in taking Yuuri's hand and lacing their fingers together. "Does this feel like a hallucination to you?"

"Not really," Yuuri admits with a hum, "but it feels a little like some of my dreams do. So, you know, I could _still_ be passed out somewhere."

Victor makes a tiny noise at the back of his throat.

"You have dreams about me, Yuuri?" That's so sweet, he wants to add, and maybe then confess that he too has been having dreams, but he can't tell what those dreams Yuuri has been having are about, so instead he asks: "What do we do in your dreams?"

"Definitely not this," Yuuri says, nodding to the dance floor. His eyes drop to Victor's hand. "Or this. Or... actually, we don't do much talking."

It's hard to swallow through the sudden tightness in Victor's throat and chest and–

"We mostly work," Yuuri adds, which ruins Victor's image of them doing other intimate activities, perhaps some involving a bed, or a desk, or maybe even a deserted closet.

"I, I've always dreamed of doing a collection with you," Yuuri confesses softly, and his fingers twitch in Victor's grasp.

"We should!" Victor decides on a whim. "We absolutely should! That would be amazing, Yuuri!"

"You think so?"

There is a flame in Yuuri's eyes, but a tame one. Or at least it is until Victor nods eagerly, because once he does, Yuuri's eyes begin to gleam in the chandelier lights like the most precious of gems and Victor is once again struck by their beauty.

"I'd love to work on you," Yuuri says, makes a sweet little noise of embarrassment, and corrects himself quickly: " _With_ you _on_ a collection. I'm sorry, I really must be getting drunk."

Victor's fairly certain that a slip of the tongue like that doesn't happen to someone who has strictly professional intensions no matter how sober they are, but even as he thinks that, he tries to keep his feelings controlled.

It's much easier said than done, however, when he knows his cheeks are as flushed as the lovely tips of Yuuri's ears.

"I will get back to you about it tomorrow," Victor promises. "When we're both less... distracted."

Yuuri doesn't answer in words, but his thumb swipes over Victor's hand – the hand that is still holding Yuuri's. Through rapid heartbeat and a new wave of heat, Victor takes a deep breath and asks:

"Have you eaten anything tonight? It might help to get rid of the alcohol."

"Bring me something?" Yuuri asks sweetly.

There is no way that Victor can say no to that, so he gives a quick "Okay, I'll be right back," and with a final squeeze to Yuuri's hand, leaves to the buffet table filled with enough food to feed an army. He takes a plate and loads it full of fatty things to help dissolve the alcohol that Yuuri has had more than a fair share of, but while he's busy doing all that, someone sneaks up to him without a hint of delicacy.

"My, you guys have hit it off so well," Phichit says when Victor looks up from the mountain of cocktail shrimp. "I think I'll need a raise for a job well done."

"Why didn't you just give me his number, Phichit?" Victor complains. "We could've had this weeks ago."

Phichit lifts his hands up innocently, but there is nothing innocent in the smile that splits his face in two.

"Hey, I don't give out Yuuri's number to his fans. You should know best what the crazy ones are capable of."

"You are one sneaky friend to have," Victor says, loading some shrimp onto the plate and putting one into his mouth, too. Yuuri wasn't the only one who forgot to eat this evening, and now Victor finally realizes how hungry he is once he's out of the vicinity of Yuuri's spell.

"But I'd really like that number," he continues. "Send it to me, please? I promise I won't use it for mischievous purposes, other than fooling Yuuri into thinking I'm worthy of him."

He grins when Phichit snorts, and grins wider when his phone pings once with a received text that Victor is fairly certain contains what he wants most. Or, second to most. Because what he wants most is Yuuri Katsuki himself, and speaking of which–

"Now then, I gotta go woo my prince! Bye!"

He whirls around from the table to Phichit's giggling. Victor's feet are light as they carry him to where he left Yuuri, but to his surprise, Yuuri isn't there anymore. Instead, Victor finds him on the dance floor with Chris, and it isn't quite jealousy that hits him so hard in the gut that his breathing stops, no.

It's awe.

It's worship.

It's... love– well, not really, _not yet_ , but it's as close to it as one can be after only speaking to someone for a few hours.

Yuuri looks spectacular as he moves in step with the music. His shirt seems to glide with him, fluttering along each spin and twirl. The feathers only add more charm to it and along with the mask... Yuuri reminds Victor of a swan: graceful, unique, exquisite.

When the song finally stops, Victor is certain that the admiration in his eyes is clear to anyone who looks at him, but he isn't shy about it. Let them see, he thinks, let them know what it is that he wants. Because that is the only way anyone should look at Yuuri. Because Yuuri deserves nothing less than utter devotion, and Victor is a fool who will give it to him no holds barred.

He's so involved in his own feelings that he doesn't even register when Chris leads Yuuri back towards him. His gaze is so focused on Yuuri that the entire room could've been on fire and Victor would only see the light that brightens Yuuri's face when he spots him, too.

"You brought snacks? How sweet of you, Victor," Chris teases, but Victor doesn't spare him a glance as he offers the plate to Yuuri. "I will leave you two lovebirds alone for now. Have to prepare for the next auction, and, Yuuri? You might want to keep an eye on this one."

Chris' grin is sharply amused, and grows even more when Yuuri asks: "Why? What is it? Oh, wait! _The shoes_?"

"Yes, the shoes," Chris confirms, winking at Victor who only blinks in confusion. "Don't miss out on the fun, yes?"

"Never," Yuuri promises.

Chris walks away with a sway to his hips that tells a short, but stark clear story of his satisfaction.

"He's quite a character," Yuuri comments, biting into a shrimp.

"Chris? Yes, he's definitely a friend for those with very specific tastes," Victor agrees. A little smile touches his lips at the irony of it. "He's a good person, though. And a good friend, despite his... unconventional ideas."

"Sounds like he and Phichit would get along," Yuuri smiles, too. "Two peas in a pod, they say, no?"

Victor chuckles. "Are you trying to play matchmaker to your own matchmaker?"

Yuuri shrugs at it, but there is something wicked in his smile that makes Victor believe it's exactly what he's trying to do. Victor laughs some more, but before he can agree to help with Yuuri's plan, the music halts and Chris' voice greets them from the stage yet again.

"Shall we?" Victor asks.

They make it towards the crowd on the far side of the room just in time to see the auction item being brought up. And it's a surprise to Victor as much as it is for everyone else, because he honestly forgot that this is what he offered when Chris asked for something from his past collections.

"Now, what we have here is nothing less than a handmade pair of stiletto pumps from the man with the magic touch, Victor Nikiforov himself!" Chris croons into the microphone.

"Oh, they're gorgeous, Victor," Yuuri whispers at Victor's side. His eyes sparkle as he looks towards the stage, the plate of food forgotten in his hand.

"Thank you," Victor replies, a sweet, sweet feeling of pride spreading through his chest.

"These silver and blue darlings will make any leg look powerful and irresistible at the same time," Chris boasts. "The leaf work on the heels and the embellishing all over this soft blue satin is pure silver, my friends, so wear them with pride! We will start at ten thousand, but really, how much do you believe these are worth, ladies?"

And just like that, the mayhem starts.

Victor withholds a wince when the ladies in the crowd begin to shout prices over one another. Even Chris isn't able to keep up with such high demand and it's not for the lack of trying.

"Twelve–"

"Yes, we got tw–"

"Fifteen!"

"We got fift–"

"Eighteen–"

"Twenty-five thousand!"

Victor's head snaps to the side where Yuuri keeps his hand raised as his voice makes all the other offers die down.

"What are you–" Victor starts, shocked, but when Yuuri smiles at him, he gasps. "Yuuri, no. You don't need to–"

"But I want to," Yuuri interrupts him, and raises his voice once again. "Twenty-five thousand, Mr. Giacometti."

Chris seems to recover then as well, as shocked as everyone else.

"Well then, ladies and gentlemen, it seems like some things are worth far more to some than they are to others. Twenty-five thousand from Mr. Yuuri Katsuki for the iconic silver leaf VN heels. Does anyone wish to challenge the bid?"

"Yuuri, why are you...? They won't even fit you. It's too much to spend on a pair of heels that you'll never wear," Victor whines, suddenly so embarrassed about his creation. Now he clearly understands what Yuuri must have felt when he was bidding on his mask not so long ago.

"So what?" Yuuri shrugs. "I want them. _You_ made them. It's a rare occasion to get your handmade work and I won't pass up on this, even if I will only be able to look at them standing on my shelf or wear them around the house. It's still worth it." He turns his head towards Victor, and repeats: " _You're_ worth it, Victor."

There is something in Yuuri's gaze that makes Victor hot under the collar. The passion is burning in the beautiful brown of his eyes, yes, but there is a strength there, too, a desire and an appreciation of Victor that is far more than he could have ever imagined, and it's pulling Victor deeper and deeper into the feelings he's been trying to control.

Victor's heart swells, and his chest fills with wonder and something so bright, so light, that without even thinking, Victor reaches for Yuuri's hand.

"You don't need them." Victor pulls on it to turn Yuuri towards him completely. "They're last season and, well, they aren't ugly, but not something I'd ever put on your feet. I'll make you new ones. Fit just for you. Please, Yuuri."

Yuuri goes as Victor directs him, but only when Victor begs does he turn his head back from where he's been looking at the stage over his shoulder.

"Just for me?" he asks. And the question is so innocent that Victor wishes to give him the world to prove himself and his intentions.

"Just for you," he confirms.

"Then I will make you a mask," Yuuri says then, suddenly pushing himself into Victor.

Their faces are close, oh so close, and Victor can feel Yuuri's breath on his lips even before Yuuri's hand softly cups his cheek. It takes Victor's mind a while to remember why Yuuri is offering him a mask, but once he does, he gasps.

"I will make you a mask that will be the most beautiful thing I have ever created," Yuuri continues.

The noise Victor makes is one of undeniable want and adoration, and he doesn't stop at that. He takes a breath that is filled with Yuuri's scent, a thing that makes him dizzy and horny all in one, and says back:

"Then I will also make you a skirt. _A dress_. A gown worthy of those heels and your amazing body. And it will have all my heart in it."

Yuuri licks his lips at that, intent and focused, like he hasn't been all evening.

"And a jacket," Yuuri asks, and Victor is nodding even before he considers it fully.

"And a jacket," he agrees.

"Then I will make you a suit, too," Yuuri insists. He runs his hand over the slope of Victor's shoulder, attentive to the curve and the swell of muscle under the heavy fabric. "I will make you a suit that will make you look like a god."

Victor whines this time and without any more words, he pulls Yuuri away from the crowd gathered by the stage.

Yuuri leaves his half-full plate on a table they pass by in a rush and, without falling a step behind, he locks his fingers with Victor's. The auction is still ongoing, but no one has outbid Yuuri from what little Victor can hear past the buzzing of blood in his ears. He's pleasantly numb to anything other than the warmth of Yuuri's hand inside his own and the quiet footsteps by his side that echo around in his heart. He imagines the clicking of the heels, the ones he'll make for Yuuri one day, and he can tell without looking into the glass doorway they quickly push past that his entire face is flushed crimson from the sheer strength of his want.

As soon as they leave the ballroom, Victor guides Yuuri away from the doors, from the people, from distractions. They are still in full view, but there is no one around to catch them and, like a starving man, Victor dives for Yuuri's lips.

This time there is no Chris to interrupt them and, this time, Yuuri meets him halfway, just as desperate.

They both moan at the slide of soft skin, or maybe it's just Victor's obscenely loud voice echoing in the empty hall. He can't care less about it though, because Yuuri's mouth parts in a silent invitation and Victor takes it without any second thoughts. The hard form of the mask bites him in the cheek when he presses closer and it must do so to Yuuri as well, since he pulls away and impatiently tears the thing off his face.

"Are you sure...?" Victor breathes, surprised at how easily Yuuri has revealed his true face.

Yuuri doesn't reply in words. He wraps his hand behind Victor's head, sneaks his fingers into his hair and tugs him down to join their lips again.

And it's heaven. It's bliss. It's everything Victor wanted, and _more_. Much more.

He pulls Yuuri as close as he can, until their chests align, their heartbeats sing against each other. The feathers of Yuuri's shirt tickle him on the chin, the face, the neck, and it makes Victor shiver. They feel like a soft, teasing slide of fingers against his skin and Yuuri's hand, which tightens in Victor's hair and tugs, and pulls, and makes him whine, is not helping any.

It's a beautiful contrast of tenderness and desperation, one that Victor feels in a shiver down his spine: electric and doused with desire.

"Yuuri..." Victor pants, fighting back a groan.

"I know," Yuuri replies, just as hoarse, "I know, Victor, I know. Just... a little more..."

Victor can't deny him that, because denying Yuuri would be a crime, and Victor's heart isn't ready to commit one. He kisses him again, and in that sweetness he gets lost. Yuuri's mouth tastes like shrimp and champagne, a little spicy and heated, but sweet all the same.

It's hard to pull away from that, but Victor fights his best to do it once again.

"Come on," he says, kissing Yuuri's lips again. "Let's go to my car. No one will catch us there."

Yuuri kisses him again without a care for Victor's words. He climbs onto his toes and slings his arm over Victor's shoulder to keep him close. Victor kisses him, small little kisses, one after another and another, until his heart feels so full it's impossible to stop.

"Yuuri," he begs. "Someone will see us here."

"Do you not want to be seen with me?" Yuuri asks, his breath on Victor's lips.

His eyes are too dark to be brown anymore and Victor guesses that his own are just as distraught with lust. And how could they not be when he has the man of his dreams inside his arms, with lips kissed cherry red and a blush sitting high on his cheeks while little cowlicks of hair fall onto his bare forehead? He's a sight that no sane man could resist, and Victor surely must be insane to even try.

"It's not that," Victor gives softly. "I just don't know if you want people to see you like this. Or, you know, with me."

Yuuri doesn't reply for a moment – he kisses Victor again, and again, and once more, before he sighs and presses his forehead to Victor's.

"I don't care," he says.

He runs the tip of his nose over Victor's cheek. The gesture is so tender that Victor's arms tighten around him almost instinctively while his entire body is set on fire.

"Being seen with you isn't even on my list of worries, but you're right. We shouldn't make more gossip than there already will be after the auction."

"Let's get you home," Victor decides, swallowing hard at the heated look Yuuri gives him. "If I don't let you go right now, I know we will both regret not doing this properly while sober."

"Maybe," Yuuri agrees.

He slips his fingers from Victor's hair and trails the curve of Victor's jaw up to Victor's lips. The touch is light, almost like the feathers on Yuuri's shirt. Yuuri draws over the shape of Victor's mouth and Victor can't help the little smile, which Yuuri mirrors perfectly.

"I still feel like this is all a dream," Yuuri confesses, eyes darting up to look into Victor's. "Are you real, Victor? Is it... is this really...?"

Victor gives a breathless laugh. He presses a kiss to Yuuri's sweet lips and rests his forehead against Yuuri's once more, lost in the warmth that wraps around his heart.

"I also feel like this is too good to be true," he says. "You... you're amazing, Yuuri."

Now, without the mask in the way, he can see the precious pink that Yuuri's cheeks turn as he blushes at Victor's words. Victor tilts Yuuri's chin up with a hand and rests his lips against one cheek and then the other, delighted that the blush turns Yuuri's whole face even more red than before.

"If this is a dream," Victor whispers against Yuuri's soft skin, "then I don't want to wake up."

"Me neither," Yuuri whispers back.

They kiss again, but this time it's a softer kiss: warm and tender, so gentle that the lightness of it makes it all the more profound. With his eyes closed and throat tight, Victor freezes for a moment longer, breathing Yuuri's breath and feeding him his own.

"Did you drive here?" Victor asks after a moment, because the longer he lingers the harder it will be to let Yuuri go, he knows.

"Took a cab with Phichit," Yuuri replies. "Let me just..."

Yuuri doesn't even step away from Victor when he sneaks his hand down into his pockets in search for his phone. He finds it and unlocks it with a password that Victor can't help but notice is the Christmas Day date. And, coincidentally, also Victor's birthday. Before he can ask about it though, he sees Yuuri's lock screen and all the questions are forgotten as Victor coos at the most precious tiny poodle he's ever seen.

"Who is this? He looks so sweet and fluffy!"

"Vicchan," Yuuri says, "my dog."

"I didn't know you have a poodle, Yuuri," Victor gasps, looking up from the phone to Yuuri, absolutely besotted. "But now I do and I'm sure it's fate! I love poodles! I even have one myself!"

Yuuri nods, smiling. "Yes, Makkachin, I know. I got Vicchan because of you."

A beautiful blush takes over Yuuri's face again, but it doesn't make him shy this time, no. It seems to give him more courage, because Yuuri leans his face closer to Victor's and with glowing, stunningly vibrant eyes, he admits:

"I've been a fan of yours for years, Victor, and I always... I always wanted to meet you. To be, be close to you. So when you got a poodle, I wanted one, too. And then I got this little sweet boy and, listen," Yuuri's fingers tighten on Victor's arm, "his full name is _Victor_."

Victor's heart stops for one special moment and then it jumps right back into action, more motivated than ever before. With a strangled whine, Victor wraps Yuuri in his arms and squeezes him tight enough to make Yuuri gasp.

"That is the most precious thing anyone has done for me..." Victor mumbles into Yuuri's shoulder, so touched he doesn't think he can speak any louder. "You better call Phichit now or I'm not letting you out of my arms again. I swear, you're too good to let go, Yuuri, so I'm never letting you go. That's it, I've decided."

Yuuri only laughs at his antics, but the sound of it is like a kiss straight to Victor's heart. It's warm and light, and, as if to prove his words, Victor hugs Yuuri tightly. He clings and clings, and even when Yuuri texts Phichit, he doesn't let go. He wouldn't let go later either, but Yuuri's hand runs through his hair and guides him to look into Yuuri's sweet, tender eyes.

"This was probably the best night of my life," Yuuri confesses.

They can both hear the footsteps in the hallway, possibly Phichit's, but before he gets there, Victor wants to do one more thing. He tilts his head slowly and gently rests a kiss on Yuuri's cheek.

"Then I'll make sure it isn't the last one," Victor says.

And when Yuuri is finally pulled away from his arms by an amused, grinning Phichit who gives him a thumbs up behind Yuuri's back, Victor makes a vow to himself to keep that promise. It is the only one he cannot, for no reason, break – and he won't.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [alexander mcqueen spring/summer 2010 armadillo boots](http://nirvanacph.com/2018/08/material-monday-sight-excite-aesthetic-stardom-of-alexander-mcqueen/) which are quite a curious thing bc they're so odd and difficult to produce they never made it to mass production and only 21 pairs were made + [3 more were auctioned in 2015 to help unicef's relief efforts to aid those touched by an earthquake in nepal](https://wwd.com/fashion-news/fashion-scoops/alexander-mcqueen-armadillo-boots-christies-unicef-10184493/)
> 
> [ralph & russo's eden pump](https://ralphandrusso.com/shoes/eden-pumps/eden-pump-midnight-blue-satin-with-gunmetal-leaves) which are the shoes from this chapter's auction! don't they just make you think of yuuri? 
> 
> but hcjhvbnm WHO CARES ABOUT FASHION NOW  
>  _T H E Y K I S S E D !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: vomiting

 

 

 

 

 

What Yuuri wakes up to is a rapid pinging of messages on a phone, but he knows the tune too well by now to think it's his. It's never his anyway. Yuuri doesn't know enough people to justify getting so many messages, or alerts, really, it depends on what this is about, but point being – it's Phichit's phone and it's too early in the day to deal with that.

"Turn it off," Yuuri whines.

And when no reply comes as the noise continues, he cracks open his eyes to see that he's not in his bed, but on the couch in the living room and Phichit is sitting in the armchair opposite of him, still in his bathrobe. His hair is wet and unbrushed, but not for the first time he's too focused on his phone to deal with it, so Yuuri slumps back against the way too hard pillows, knowing that this might take a while, and groans.

"Who even is texting you this early?" he asks.

"Many people," Phichit says without looking up from his phone. "But it's actually all about you. You broke the Internet, it seems, and I wasn't even there to see it."

He pauses and gives Yuuri a look that is partially his barely hidden curiosity and a childish sulkiness that truly makes him look his age. It's not an entirely awful look on him, either.

"I'm proud, don't get me wrong," Phichit carries on, "but I'm also terribly upset, because I wasn't there to document this. The photographs are atrocious, by the way. I would've taken them so much better."

Yuuri sighs, closing his eyes again.

His head is achy, like he has slept too little or too much, or both at once, and it feels _swollen_. Throbbing. It's an entire situation here that he should be sleeping off, but doing so in a comfortable bed would be much better for his neck, which already cracks when Yuuri moves his head.

The moment he sits up, however, nausea hits him hard, but Yuuri breathes through it and slumps against the back of the couch to let his stomach settle. He only moved a few centimetres, but the world is spinning wildly, and on pure instinct he lifts a hand to breathe through his fingers, which oddly enough helps.

"You okay?"

Phichit sounds concerned, so Yuuri forces himself to give him a groan of acknowledgement. The words are too much at the moment, since Yuuri is fairly certain that with them the rest of the food remnants in his stomach will also resurface. Phichit seems to understand him nonetheless, and pats him on the shoulder.

"I take it you don't want to talk about last night yet?" he asks, but when Yuuri doesn't reply, he carries on. "That's fine by me, but just so you know, it's getting wild out there with speculations. There's that VN showcase later today, so I'm sure Victor will get smothered with questions, but it would be a good idea for you to give some sort of statement before the Internet gets blown to smithereens from the tension."

"Statement about what?" Yuuri manages to croak once the nausea passes some.

He doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes, doesn't even dare to breathe too deeply. He basically is a corpse of a human being, lying there slumped on the couch and grunting replies at his best friend, who has not only his own life together, but also Yuuri's by extension, and isn't that just amazing? If people knew that this is what the creative designer of Yuugen did in his free time, they'd probably think he's a slob.

Or maybe they already think that, Yuuri wouldn't know, now would he?

"Statement about what, Phichit?" Yuuri asks again when Phichit fails to reply the first time and cracks his eyes open to look at his blurry best friend. His eyes itch from how clumsily he must have taken out his contacts the night before, but Yuuri ignores it, squinting to see better.

"What happened?"

"Where is your phone, Yuuri?" Phichit changes the subject. "Just give me your phone. I'll explain, I promise."

Yuuri groans at that, because how should he know where his phone is when he doesn't even know what happened to his other sock, since he only seems to have one halfway down his left foot. He stares at his toes, boneless, mindless, and clueless of what is really going on.

"Okay, never mind, I got it," Phichit says before Yuuri can even begin to force his brain to function. "Ah, that would explain it – it's dead. Let me plug it in and I'll be right back."

That, Yuuri doesn't even reply to. There is no point, because Phichit will do what Phichit must do and Yuuri will rather rest than try and fail to stop him. Except–

"Yuuri? Sorry, I saw your texts on the lock screen, but... are you really doing a collection with VN?"

Yuuri's mind screeches to a halt.

" _What_?" he squeaks. "Why would I–?"

"There's a text on here from Victor Nikiforov himself saying that–"

In a true American Ninja Warrior style, Yuuri flips himself over the back of the couch and tackles Phichit to get to his phone. As they both go down, so does the battery again when the charger gets ripped from the outlet and the phone dies almost instantly in Yuuri's hands. Ignoring the moan of pain Phichit gives from the ground, Yuuri replugs his phone with shaky hands and waits for the stupid Apple logo to once again appear on the screen.

There is indeed a text waiting for him. Five, no, _seven_ texts, in fact.

And all of them are from the same number.

 

 

__

_Hi, Yuuri! This is the original Victor who you named your dog after ;) I hope Phichit was sober enough to give me the right number?_

_Anyway, I just wanted to say that I had So Much Fun tonight <3_

_And I'm very much looking forward to working with you! <3 <3 <3_

_And seeing you again <3_

_Call me, text me, @ me -- whatever, whenever_

_I'll be waiting <3_

_:kissing_heart:_

 

 

Yuuri stares at the hearts, blinking away the tears the brightness of the screen brought to his eyes.

"I think I need my glasses," he says, because whatever this is it can't be right.

He steps off of Phichit and for one blissful second thinks he will be able to go find said glasses and solve the mystery of the texts on his phone, but it's a fool's hope. Yuuri's achy stomach comes back to remind him with a painful lurch of his night of drinking and he only has the time to drop his phone on Phichit before he's running towards the bathroom at full speed, while trying to keep his mouth shut and safe.

He makes it in time to keep the bathroom and himself fairly clean, and it's only fifteen minutes later that he thinks he might actually feel a little better. Or at least his stomach feels a little better, because Yuuri himself is having cold sweats and full body shivers, and his temples are panging something fierce. But, well, it's still better than projectile vomiting, he guesses.

He sits on the bathroom floor for a moment longer, cheek pressed to a dusty blue tile next to the toilet. It's nice and cold, and Yuuri feels like he might not want to move from there at all, but his legs are falling asleep and the texts on his phone keep reminding him of some Victor, whom he apparently met last night and whom Phichit gave Yuuri's number to?

That, that doesn't make sense at all.

With a groan, Yuuri picks himself up and flushes the toilet until it's clean. He looks into the mirror while he wets his toothbrush, but the smeared mascara around his eyes makes the bags underneath look even worse than they usually do after an all-nighter of needlework, so he quickly looks away. Yuuri spits into the sink before he puts the brush into his mouth and once spearmint does its work he actually begins to feel human again.

Like, one third human, maybe. He isn't that optimistic this early in the day.

"You okay there, Yuuri?" Phichit asks him when Yuuri finally steps out of the bathroom, to which Yuuri shrugs and falls back onto the couch. "Need me to bring you anything? Your glasses? Water? Mint gum or tea?"

"Just kill me, how about that?" Yuuri asks.

"Sorry, bud, can't do that," Phichit replies, a smile in his voice. "I can, however, tell you that you've had a wild 24 hours and they're not even done yet."

He pats Yuuri's knee lightly, but there is little compassion in his cheerful face.

"Honestly, what's going on, Peach?" Yuuri asks, heaving a sigh and sitting up some to burp when the air comes back again. "Sorry."

"No worries, no worries. Burp away, my friend, while I clue you in," Phichit answers. "But first... what do you remember from the party yesterday? Did you maybe... meet someone?"

The hint is _so very subtle_ that Yuuri frowns at it. He thinks back to the gala, the very first person he and Phichit talked to, Yuuri's mentor Celestino Cialdini, and then he remembers talking to Lilia Baranovskaya, Vogue's editor in chief. But after that, after that... _oh_.

"Wait," Yuuri's eyes snap up to Phichit, suddenly wide and alert, "you can't mean to say that this Victor is–"

"–Victor Nikiforov himself?" Phichit ends for him, grinning. "The one and the same. You guys hit it off so well yesterday."

There's a lot of cloudiness around Yuuri's head, but he can't find a lie in Phichit's words. He remembers talking to Victor. He remembers, he remembers _flirting_ with Victor. He remembers...

"I danced with him," he whispers. "I danced with him, didn't I?"

He looks up at Phichit, who keeps looking at him with the widest, most amused grin.

"Yes, you did. More than once even," he agrees. "I have a few pictures on my phone, wanna see?"

Yuuri's face must betray him, because Phichit only chuckles and opens up his photo album to then thrust his phone in Yuuri's hands. And, indeed, there are pictures of Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov dancing together. Some are just of them dancing, but others... Yuuri looks at a closeup photo of his and Victor's faces as they look each other in the eyes and... well.

He scratches his cheek, which he's fairly sure is already red, and swipes to the next photo. Which doesn't really help the matter at hand, because in this one Yuuri is dipping Victor down and grinning so wide at a blushing Victor Nikiforov that Yuuri can see it even through the mask and all the feathers.

"Wow," Yuuri says, unsure of what other words he could use to describe what he's currently feeling.

"I know, right? You guys look good together. No wonder the camera loves you."

"So we... danced together?" Yuuri asks, swiping through the rest of the pictures. "Is that all?"

"What, would you like there to be more?" Phichit teases and when Yuuri doesn't answer, but instead blushes profusely, he laughs out loud. "Oh, my sweet summer child... _of course_ there is more."

There are no more pictures on Phichit's phone, however, and Yuuri's confusion must be apparent. Phichit doesn't explain himself at all when he takes the phone back and does something for a few seconds, before he hands the phone back to Yuuri. And as much as Yuuri was blushing up till then, now he feels like his skin is going to melt off his face – it's heating up too fast.

 

 

 

 

"Oh my god," is the only thing Yuuri can say as he stares at the blurry pictures that are undoubtedly of him and Victor. Kissing.

It's not difficult to recognize Victor's signature silver hair, and it's just as easy to recognize Yuuri. The picture is shadowed, there's some backlights that make their faces impossible to see clearly – and it's a good thing, too, because Yuuri notices that his mask is in his hand instead of on his face like it should be – but even with all that the shirt Yuuri is wearing in the picture is one of a kind. There was no other like it at the gala, so it couldn't have been anyone else.

And while Yuuri is watching the pictures, all the different angles of his body wrapped in Victor Nikiforov's arms, he remembers the soft touch on his lips. A ghost of it sits there now when he touches his fingers to his mouth, entranced, bewitched by a memory he doesn't remember, but his body feels with a familiar ache anyway.

The noise that leaves him as it all returns to him hot flash after hot flash, and he remembers the warmth of Victor's breath on his cheek and the flush on Victor's nose, is both strangled, yet deafening.

"Oh my god, Phichit!" Yuuri repeats, unable to react in any other way, because he _made out with Victor Nikiforov,_ his idol, his crush, the man of his dreams who he never expected to meet, much less–

"Oh my fucking god," he repeats again. "Am I dreaming?"

Phichit's grin doesn't fade when he offers a very pleased, "Nope, it's all real, my dude."

Yuuri makes a gurgling sound and flops onto the couch, pressing the phone to his chest and throwing his other arm over his eyes.

"What the actual fuck," he says to Phichit's unsubtle laughter, and makes a long sound that is still nowhere near human.

"Okay, now that you had your little freakout moment, here's the thing," Phichit says once he calms down a little. "There's good news and bad news, which one you want first?"

Yuuri only gives him a look from under his arm.

"Okay, bad it is," Phichit interprets his silence, and follows it with: "The pictures you've just seen are from a gossip rag. Apparently someone on the guest list got snap happy and took pics of you without either of you being aware of it. Or maybe it was a paparazzi, but to be honest I think they'd have better equipment than that, which leads us to the good news: it's impossible to see your faces in here, so if you really don't want the public to know, you can always pretend it's not you."

"And what about my shirt?" Yuuri asks back, knowing that Phichit is only trying to make him feel better about this mess. "No, Phichit, it's fine. I... I think I'm okay, actually?"

"You sure?" Phichit asks. "I have it on good authority that if you only say the word, Victor Nikiforov himself will descend on the photographer _and_ the magazine, and will have them all fined and fired."

He says it so seriously that Yuuri has to laugh. When Phichit doesn't, Yuuri blinks at him, a smile dying on his lips.

"Wait, you aren't serious, are you?" Yuuri asks.

"Look," Phichit says, "I know I was teasing you about Victor a lot, but he's a good guy, which I know you know, yes." He lifts a hand when Yuuri opens his mouth to say just that. "And I also know that Victor likes you back. I haven't talked to him about it a lot or anything, but trust me when I say, he couldn't take his eyes off of you yesterday."

Yuuri's entire face stings with the force of his blush.

"Are you sure?"

"Do you remember that he bought your mask?" Phichit asks and Yuuri strains his memory to remember... and yes, he discovers, he does remember that. "Anyone who pays that much money for a mask is surely trying to impress someone."

The wink Phichit sends him only serves to make Yuuri even more embarrassed.

"So the texts on my phone...?" Yuuri starts.

Phichit nods. "I gave him your number because I thought all you guys would do was flirt and dance, but... well, that happened."

He nods to the phone that still rests screen down on Yuuri's chest. Yuuri picks it up and... yeah, that did happen. Wow.

"Are you mad at me?" Phichit asks, his voice small.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Yuuri blinks at him over the phone.

"I did give him your number without permission," Phichit points out, but Yuuri only shakes his head.

"No, it's fine," he says. "I probably wouldn't have the courage to do it myself..." He pauses to take a look at the very incriminating pictures that clearly say what Yuuri actually had the courage to do, and he blushes yet again. "I mean, I wouldn't _normally_ have the courage to do it, so, um, I'm glad you did. Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Phichit chirps, grinning.

They sit for a moment in silence, looking at each other, before both of them begin to snigger. Phichit is the first one to crack up and Yuuri follows soon after, laughing at the absurdity of the situation until his stomach begins to hurt again. He groans, while still chuckling helplessly, and tosses Phichit's phone back to him.

"Save the pictures for me, please?" he asks, crawling off the couch. "I'm gonna take a shower, so I can feel like a human person again."

"I'll do you one better. I'll set the best one as your phone background," Phichit teases, but he quickly adds, "Just kidding, just kidding! Nothing can replace Vicchan, I know," when Yuuri gives him _a look._

With that said and done, Yuuri grabs a change of clothes and locks himself in the bathroom again.

Under the warm stream of water he thinks of Victor, and the more he does, the colder he turns the water, because images of Victor's lust-filled eyes, and his flushed cheeks, and the kiss-swollen lips isn't very helpful in calming down Yuuri's already straining heartbeat. At some point he sticks his head under the showerhead of icy water to clear it out of all the ghost sensations of Victor's lips on his skin, and that finally allows him to cleanse his mind off the ridiculous desire to look at the pictures again.

He dries himself, dresses, and with a towel wrapped around his neck to keep his hair from dripping onto his t-shirt, he really begins to feel like a person once more.

"What time is it?" he asks when he returns to the living room to see Phichit with his socked feet on the table.

"Around one, I think," Phichit says. And as if he's reading Yuuri's mind, which he just as well may be, he adds: "The VN showcase is in half an hour."

Yuuri takes a deep breath. "Good."

It'll give him some time to clear his head before he gives himself over to the little fanboy Yuuri. Or at least that's the plan until Phichit ruins it.

"Maybe you should answer Victor's texts?" he says without looking Yuuri's way. "He's actually panicking a little, because you're taking so long."

"Am I?" Yuuri starts. "I didn't mean to make him wait, I just..."

  1. A) Puked.
  2. B) Freaked out.
  3. C) Woke up a zombie.
  4. D) Learned I made out with my childhood crush aka my still crush.



All the answers are correct in Yuuri's situation and Phichit seems to know it, because he gently says: "I know you didn't. I told him that, but he's kind of a nervous mess around you. Sounds familiar, no?"

"Maybe," Yuuri mumbles, to which Phichit smiles. "Okay, I'll... I'll try."

He grabs his phone, unplugs it, and with 30% battery sneaks off to his bedroom. He sits on the bed there and opens up Victor's messages again. They stare him in the face all heart-shaped and bright, and before Yuuri knows what's going on his heart is beating double like the little emoji Victor has sent him.

"I'm sorry for the late reply, I passed out on the couch and..." he starts typing, but that sounds too much like telling Victor his entire life story and maybe he shouldn't be telling someone he made out with that he's just finished puking.

"Hey, I'm so happy to hear from you!" he types again. Then deletes 'so', because that sounds a little desperate. And then he deletes it all, because then it just sounds cold.

"I'm looking forward to working with you too ;)," he starts, then deletes the emoji, because that just looks too flirty, and he stares at the sentence for a good minute before he deletes that, too.

With a groan of frustration, Yuuri leaves the messenger app.

How do people even talk after they make out at a professional event? Or maybe, how do they talk to their crush after they have their tongue in their mouth?

Yuuri opens his browser to distract himself. He types in 'Victor Nikiforov' and... it's there, right on the first page.

 

 

** Whirlwind romance between the fashion powerhouses? Merging of ideas, minds... and hearts? **

 

 

Yuuri knows he shouldn't, but he opens the article anyway. The pictures are the first thing he sees and he looks at them again, face blazing. They really... look good together, he has to admit.

He scrolls down and reads:

 

 

_The Giacometti name has always been connected with fashion and good taste. The great grandfather of the current VN head stylist, Christophe Giacometti, sir Alfard Giacometti opened a winery in the south of France in 1897 and since then the family have been on the tongues of anyone who knows anyone._

_Yesterday night, i.e. on May 31st, at the Giacometti villa just outside New York city, the Giacomettis held a small gathering for a good cause – see more_ linked on page 2 _._

_What our reporters expected to see there was art, wine, good clothing, and all things glamour for the upcoming season, but what they got is something much more exquisite: a scoop of a century, it would seem. In the pictures above, we have Victor Nikiforov, the personage and name behind the VN fashion brand (right), and Yuuri Katsuki, the head designer of Yuugen, known for his avant-garde looks and eccentric masks (left), engaged in a passionate kiss!_

_From what we know, the two were never seen interacting at any social functions before, so the intimate relationship they seem to have has put many of their fans into an emotional rollercoaster as they tried to find the needle in the haystack, a.k.a. the beginnings of the two designers' behind-the-scenes romance (find the summary of these theories in an article_ here _)._

 _It goes without saying that many hearts have been broken by this news (ours too!), because both gentlemen have been the unspoken heartthrobs of the fashion industry for many years now. It only shows that the good men go out as fast as new Chanel, and, for sure, these two seem like a perfect fit! The only questions fans of the two brands have now is how will this relationship affect the fashion, and_ _whether it will last at all? Only time will tell, is all we can say at this point in time, but here's 10 reasons why we think the world will fall apart on Victuuri–_

 

 

"Yuuri?"

Phichit's voice calling him through the door startles Yuuri so badly, he drops his phone on his foot. Hissing, Yuuri presses a thumb against the throbbing spot.

"What?" he shouts back.

"It's almost time for the showcase," Phichit answers. "Are you going to watch? Or are you too busy talking to your new boyfriend?"

Yuuri makes a face at the closed door to the clear snickering he can hear through it. He picks his phone and looks at the article one last time, before he realizes that he never did answer Victor's texts. And now it's... kind of too late. He'd hate to disturb Victor right before a big thing like the showcase.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he tells Phichit and locks his phone.

Later. He'll talk to Victor later.

"How did it go?" Phichit asks when Yuuri sits down next to him on the couch.

Phichit's laptop is on the little table between their feet, full screen of it streaming the showcase from the VN official website. There's two high stools in view and a beautiful pastel pink background with a golden VN logo in the backdrop.

Victor will look really good there, Yuuri thinks briefly before Phichit elbows him impatiently.

"Spill," he demands and Yuuri sighs.

"Okay, I didn't talk to him," Yuuri confesses.

"What? Why?"

"I just didn't know what to say and then I got distracted by this article and–"

Phichit gives him a look. "Do we need to have another conversation about you looking at trashy press, because I'm always ready for that, you know it."

"No, no, it's not–" Yuuri starts, and then breaks off. "I just got distracted this time, I promise."

Phichit looks like he isn't too convinced, but he lets it go and slumps back against Yuuri's shoulder.

"So what's holding you back?" he asks.

"I really don't know," Yuuri says. "I think I'm just... scared. That he won't like me as I am now, because I was pretty wasted for the most of the night, wasn't I? What if he thinks sober Yuuri is boring? Not worth his time? He's... well, he's Victor. He could have anyone, why would he want me?"

"That's the kind of conversation you should probably be having with him," Phichit says. "But if you ask me, he'd probably want you because you're brilliant, and handsome, and really fun to be around. And above all of that you're kind and driven and passionate about what you love. He'd be a fool if he didn't want you sober."

Yuuri smiles despite himself. "Thanks."

"Now write your boy before he sits down before the cameras then," Phichit tells him, and he doesn't need to say it twice.

Yuuri pulls out his phone, begins typing, and just as he hits send, Phichit chimes in with: "Oh, they're starting!"

All Yuuri can do now is watch how Victor Nikiforov sits down before all the flashing cameras with his hair perfectly swept to the side in a little sweet curl, and his sweater a stunning periwinkle blue that brings out his eyes and looks decidedly too cute on the pink VN background; that Victor Nikiforov pulls out his phone while the whole world is watching and checks the message amongst the flashing and clicking of the camera shutters.

It's like watching a volcano erupt in real time: it's terrifying, but so beautiful at the same time that you can't simply look away. And Yuuri doesn't. There also might be some toxic fumes involved, from how hard Yuuri is blushing when Victor gives a sweet smile to his phone and types something quickly, but Yuuri thankfully doesn't breathe any, because he actually stops breathing altogether when his own phone pings not a second after Victor smiles into the camera.

"Did he just...?" Phichit starts, looking from the screen to a red, red Yuuri and then back, and– "Oh my god, did you text him just now and he texted you back on camera? _Yuuri_!"

Yuuri makes a strange sound, which is part embarrassment, part something sweeter. He has no time to ponder on what exactly, because Phichit shakes his arm like a ragdoll, while screaming for him to "Answer him, oh my god, Yuuri, you have to!"

With a shaky thumb Yuuri unlocks his phone, which takes him three full tries, but he does it and... it's more than worth it, he thinks as soon as he sees the messages.

 

 

_Yes!!!!!! can't wiat :hearteyes: :heart:_

_*wait_

_I'm sorry, too excited to type :blush:_

_You're watching me!!! I'm tempted to blow you a kiss through the camera :thinking:_

 

 

The speed with which Yuuri types "Please don't," surprises even him, but the moment he clicks send, he's typing again, too fast to really think about what it is that he's typing.

 

 

_But you can wink at me. Once._

 

It takes only a few seconds for Victor to receive his texts and once he does, he gives the camera a brilliant smile and a wink. He's so perfect that Yuuri can't do anything else but press a hand to his heart and hold it there, while the silly thing flutters in his chest like a featherless bird that years to fly.

"Look at you, my boy." Phichit whistles from the side. "Flirting with the man of your dreams on camera. Who are you and what did you do with Yuuri Katsuki?"

The blush returns full force, but Yuuri doesn't get to reply – not that he knows how – because Victor puts down his phone and begins talking.

As the models take onto the stage, presenting the few looks they've chosen to give everyone a little taste of what's to come, he announces that the looks for his fall collection are all officially complete and they're doing only the last minute marginal corrections. He says that he has already started making plans for a new collection, but he isn't entirely sure when that one will premiere. Still, he's very excited for it. And no, he will not be speaking about the photographs from the Giacometti gala that have surfaced overnight.

"Yuuri's life and my own are private and as the private suggests, these are private matters to be spoken of only among friends and family," Victor tells a reporter with a smile that is chilling to the bone, but to Yuuri it only feels overwhelmingly warm. Caring. _Sweet._

He must make a sound, because Phichit coos at it, too. "You've got a good one there, Yuuri."

"I know," Yuuri says, gently smiling.

And then he gets an idea. He picks up his phone and hesitates only for a second, after which he types: "Tell them about our collab!"

Victor's phone goes off just when Victor is thanking everyone for coming and he pauses to check it. And then he smiles, right at the camera and right at Yuuri, who smiles back even when Victor can't really see it.

"Okay, I have just gotten the green light from Yuuri Katsuki himself to share a little secret with you," Victor says and Yuuri hides his excited grin behind his hand. "I can't tell you much, but maybe this will be something that gets you on the right track, which is always what's most dear to our hearts – fashion. Because, ladies and gentlemen, Yuuri Katsuki, the head designer of Yuugen and me, that is Victor Nikiforov, will be joining forces to present you a collaborative collection that will rock your world."

There are gasps, there are camera flashes, there is shouting. Victor is bombarded with questions, but he ignores them all, lifts his hands and stands up with a smile on his face, a phone in his hand and confidence in his walk as he steps off camera, explaining nothing and leaving everyone wanting more.

Including Yuuri.

"Oh my god," Phichit says. "Oh my god, you will be the death of me, I swear!"

Yuuri laughs, and then he laughs even more when Phichit shakes him around.

"You're horrible, Yuuri," Phichit complains, cackling. "You didn't even tell me about this, but you go and tell the entire world? Shame on you!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Yuuri wheezes between his giggles, even though he isn't really sorry. "I promise you'll walk in our show, is that a good enough apology?"

"I better," Phichit threatens with a grin.

He clearly has something else to say, too, but Yuuri's phone chooses that moment to ring with an incoming call and they both startle at it. Yuuri takes one look at the number and blushes, which is a clear enough tell to an amused Phichit of who exactly is calling.

"Go," Phichit says. "Go on, take it. Bros before hoes, but I'll allow a little exception this time."

Yuuri looks at his phone again, uncertain, because he doesn't really know how to talk to Victor now, not like this, but Phichit smiles at him.

"Just be yourself and you've got nothing to worry about. Now go! I swear, you smooch a guy once and you let him go to voicemail next? Yuuri Katsuki, _who are you_?"

Instead of blushing like he should be doing, Yuuri feels a strange giddiness inside him at the silly teasing. So he sticks his tongue out at Phichit, grabs his phone and runs off to his bedroom to take the call, much to the amusement of his best friend, who follows him with his laughter.

"Hi," Yuuri says into the phone, a little breathless and still grinning, but he doesn't think about it twice.

"Wow," Victor's voice flows into Yuuri's ear like a smooth, silky song. "You sound even better than I remember."

Yuuri laughs a little, because he can't really help it.

"Is that good?"

He sits on his bed and when that isn't too comfortable, he lies down and stares at his ceiling, listening to Victor's soft breathing and his own heart beating hard in his chest.

"That's awful," Victor says, "because I'm nowhere near where you are to hear you like this in person."

"Poor you."

"You have no idea." Victor heaves a sigh so heavy, that Yuuri can't help his grin. "How are you, by the way? You drunk quite a bit yesterday."

"I'm better now," Yuuri replies. "Wasn't fun right when I woke up, but I'm good now. Better than good. I– Victor, look, I don't know what you expect from this, but... I just want you to know... I'm, I'm really happy right now."

A second of silence passes, before Victor's voice comes from the other line – a murmur so tender and sweet that Yuuri feels like his heart is ready to burst just from hearing it once.

"Me too, Yuuri. Me too."

And he can't help wanting to hear it again. And again. And again...

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [bottega veneta fall 2018 mustard velour dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/bottega-veneta/slideshow/collection#64)  
> [balmain fall 2018 striped dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#51)  
> [balmain fall 2018 patchwork dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#44)  
> [balmain fall 2018 prism top](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#42)  
> [burberry fall 2018 sweater](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/burberry-prorsum/slideshow/collection#43)  
> [ann demeulemeester fall 2018 coat](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/ann-demeulemeester/slideshow/collection#1)  
> [alexander mcqueen fall 2018 mens jacket](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/alexander-mcqueen/slideshow/collection#34)  
> [balmain fall 2018 jacket](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/balmain/slideshow/collection#71)
> 
>  
> 
> if you haven't realized it yet, I'm a huge balmain fan bc this collection is hitting all my fashion tastes at once and I'm drooling gOODBYE
> 
> and a better quality pic and the link to [@littorella's](https://littorella.tumblr.com/) gorgeous art will be up [HERE](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/180206757257/yuuri-is-only-kind-of-mortified-to-be-caught-by)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you still haven't, make sure to check out [the amazing art @littorella made for the previous chapter](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/180206757257/yuuri-is-only-kind-of-mortified-to-be-caught-by)!!

 

 

 

 

 

It's strange how quickly the time passes by between the big runway shows. One minute Yuuri is working on polishing his collection and the next it's all finished and being shipped to New York for the final walk of the fashion week. There's still a good two weeks from the first event itself, and almost a month till Yuuri's show, but they just want to be sure everything gets there safe and on time to leave some leaway for fixing last minute mishaps.

So while the garments are getting packed, labelled and carried off, Yuuri finds himself with nothing better to do than entertain his new... boyfriend?

They haven't really spoken about it, but Victor's flirting is obvious. Despite what people may say about him, Yuuri is not oblivious enough to miss that. Anyway, it's rather hard to miss when Victor texts him first thing in the morning with a sweet "Good day, sleeping beauty!" and every night with "Are you in bed, little night owl? Can I tuck you in? ;)" and all the different, silly – yet somehow also very sweet and endearing – pet names.

It's not only the pet names, either. It's also Victor's voice when he calls... and he calls _a lot_. Every free moment Yuuri has in his packed up schedule is suddenly spent on his phone: with it next to his ear or in his hands, texting. He doesn't remember ever using it so much, but he isn't entirely mad about it. Victor's constant attention makes Yuuri feel like the night of the party wasn't just a fluke, like _he_ wasn't just a fluke, and it brings a smile to Yuuri's face every time he thinks about it, because while that night was magical in its own right, the day after has been just as amazing. And since then almost every day felt like that.

There is joy in Yuuri's heart that wasn't there before and he can't put in words how incredible, how powerful and light it makes him feel every time he sees Victor's name flash on his phone like a cheerful little bird.

It's exactly that overwhelming happiness that squeezes Yuuri's chest now when his phone rings and Yuuri grabs it before the first ring even goes through.

"Be careful with the petticoat. It needs to be in pristine condition, because we won't be able to iron it out the same way again," he directs his assistant and when the woman nods rapidly, Yuuri slinks out of the room.

"Hi," he says into the speaker, smiling. "Sorry about the wait, we're packing for New York."

"Oh!" Victor's voice comes through, making Yuuri's smile softer. "Am I interrupting? Just tell me if I am, Yuuri, and I will get myself out of your hair. I promise."

"You're never interrupting," Yuuri tells him, but when Victor makes a doubtful sound over the line, he laughs a little and adds: "Fine, sometimes you are, but I want you to interrupt me. Anytime."

"Okay," Victor agrees, tender and flushed.

Yuuri can't see his face, so he can't know that for sure, but he imagines it – Victor's eyelashes casting shadows on his delicately rosy cheeks as he drops his gaze down in a fight against his sweet, sweet smile. The very imagery almost kills him.

Yuuri clears his throat. "So, what's up? How's your day going?"

"Good! Even better now that I'm speaking with you."

And it's Yuuri's turn to blush, which he does freely, because there is no one to see him red and grinning like a smitten fool.

"But I am actually calling you about something." Victor's voice brings Yuuri back into attention. "It's a very important matter that can't wait a second longer, so focus now. I need your best, sharpest judgement, okay?"

"Sure, okay. I'm listening."

"Okay," Victor says, takes a breath that has Yuuri thinking all the worst, and asks: "Will you please go on a date with me this Sunday?"

Yuuri can't help himself.

" _That's_ the important thing you wanted my judgement on?" he asks, and then covers his mouth when the giggles spill out, because honestly? That is so silly and _adorable_. "Oh, Victor..."

"What?" Victor asks back as he puts pretend hurt in his voice, which fails spectacularly at the happiness Yuuri can clearly hear there. "It's an important question! And one that needs your acceptance, too, so how will you rule, Judge Yuuri?"

Yuuri laughs his last before he answers. "Guilty as charged. The penalty will be community work on Sunday, June 13th."

 It's Victor's turn to laugh and the sound fills Yuuri's ears like the most beautiful melody.

"If you can, take your sketchbook with you?" Victor adds. "I promise it won't be all work, but maybe we could talk a bit about the collab? I'm really excited for it and may or may not have started some designs already."

"Me too," Yuuri answers, grinning. "I think I have about five already. And I may or may not have named a look after you in my fall collection."

"What, really?!"

Now Victor sounds excited, and an excited Victor is even cuter than normal Victor – which is a blasphemy, Yuuri knows, but he cannot help feeling this way when Victor's voice does that happy little lilt which makes Yuuri's heart do backflips inside his chest.

"We call her Victoria," Yuuri admits, blushing again. "That day we first met... I was working on this dress and nothing seemed to go right, so I dropped it for the moment. And then I met you and it just... clicked."

Victor makes a cooing sound on the other side. "I can't wait to see it, Yuuri."

"It's blue, like your eyes," Yuuri says, God knows why, but before he can die of embarrassment, Victor's little gasp brings him back to life.

"You are way too sweet to me, Yuuri," Victor whispers into the phone and the blush that barely got the time to disappear from Yuuri's cheeks, returns with its full force. "How did I get so lucky to meet you?"

Yuuri honestly doesn't know how to answer that, because how can he? It's him who should feel lucky, and he does. After all, Yuuri has only been Victor's fan for _only_ a half of his life. If there is such thing as luck, Yuuri surely has drained all of it for this one meeting.

"I think I should be saying that," he tells Victor softly.

A sigh answers him. "I want to see you so badly. I can't wait till Sunday."

"Lunch break in an hour?" Yuuri offers, looking at his phone for the time.

"I think I can make that work," Victor answers with an unmistakable grin in his voice. Yuuri smiles to himself at that. "I'll pick you up?"

"Sure," Yuuri agrees. "Text me when you get here?"

And Victor does. The hour goes by so fast that Yuuri doesn't even know what he's been doing when Victor's text chimes on his phone. In a flash of directions, Yuuri grabs his sweater, which he quickly pulls over his head and runs out the door.

He doesn't run all the way down like he is tempted to, but takes a moment to fix his messy hair in the elevator mirror walls. He looks like he feels, he thinks – happy. For once Yuuri doesn't hate his reflection, but he does hate his clothes a little. There's nothing wrong with them per se, but... they're work clothes. Definitely not something you pick out for a lunch date.

It's too late to change now, however, because the elevator comes to a stop at the ground floor and the doors open to a spacious hall where Yuuri can already spot Victor. As if it ever could be hard to spot someone who garners attention with his very presence, not to mention the dashing looks that make even Yuuri, a man, feel like he could get pregnant from simply looking into Victor's beautiful eyes too long...

Yuuri snaps out of his revere forcefully, because this is not the time for that, but Victor is still surrounded by what seems to be a group of fans, who Yuuri knows are mostly working somewhere in the building. He recognizes the two ladies from that magazine two floors above Yuugen, and he thinks the tall blonde must be from the real estate agency on the fifth floor. They crowd around Victor like excited schoolgirls and Yuuri watches how Victor, who is a perfect gentleman through and through, takes selfies with all of them, and then sends them off with smiles.

He spots Yuuri at some point, but Yuuri shakes his head quickly and points in the direction of the side entrance. Victor nods and signs all the autographs, while Yuuri makes his way to the exit virtually unnoticed. He waits behind the corner and smiles when Victor finally joins him.

"Sorry, I should've known they will jump you the moment you step into the building," Yuuri says as a way of greeting, but Victor shrugs it off with a smile.

"I'm sure they'll get used to it. I'm here to stay, after all." He gives Yuuri a sweet look.

Yuuri can't hide his blush at the promise hidden in Victor's words, but it seems like he doesn't need to bother. Victor dips his head down and rests a kiss high on Yuuri's cheek – a little thing that has Yuuri blushing even harder.

"Hi," Victor says warmly.

"Hi," Yuuri answers, flushed and soft.

He feels mellow, blurred, and melting around the edges, and it's all because of Victor. All because he's standing close and looking at Yuuri with his surprisingly gentle blue eyes. Truth be told, if Yuuri doesn't move now, he's fairly certain he will turn into a puddle of admiration and adoration and while that might not be so bad – it wouldn't be, actually – Yuuri knows they don't really have time for it.

"We should go, yes?"

"We should, yes," Victor agrees, blinks, and slowly moves away.

Yuuri misses his warmth the moment it's gone, but he doesn't say anything about it. He guides Victor through the corridors to the side entrance instead, silent, until he can't stand the odd racing of his blood anymore.

"I want to go with colour for the collab," he says. "I know that my aesthetic is usually toned down colouristically and experimenting with the structure, but I think I'd like to challenge myself with something much more up your alley."

"I was thinking the same thing, actually. I don't think your colour palette is bad, quite the opposite, but I was thinking of using us, and I mean _us_ , as the inspiration." Victor gives him a small grin. "To me, every time we meet is bright and vivid, so it makes sense to use colour. I wholeheartedly agree."

"What should we use as the base then? My fall line is fairly blue, so I don't think repeating that would be good, but maybe..."

"I'm thinking red," Victor says. "I have one look I really want you to see. It's going slightly into avant-garde, a play on a male and female perspective, but not exactly unisex."

"Sounds interesting," Yuuri says, and it does. Victor is known for his love of weaving the masculine and feminine elements together, and Yuuri can't wait to see what he has come up with this time around. "Anything other than red?"

"Black," Victor says without hesitation, "and I want to incorporate lace. Maybe mesh? For that look I'm talking about. I'll show you the sketches on Sunday."

Yuuri opens the door for Victor with a smile and says: "Okay. I can't wait to see it."

Talking about their visions, they walk around the building to where Victor has his car parked, and climb inside. Victor starts the engine only a second before he asks:

"So what's good to eat around here?"

"You drive and I'll give directions as we go," Yuuri says.

"Deal. I love surprises," Victor smiles and the little tilt of his head is far too charming for Yuuri to be able to look anywhere but at the elegant slope of Victor's neck.

Yuuri isn't about to say "I know," but he does know. And he grins to himself while he sits in the passenger seat and has free reign to admire Victor, who can't fluster him back because all his focus is on the road ahead. It's a lovely feeling, this freedom, and Victor himself is lovely as well: dressed in a sweater, which has the sleeves rolled up to about a half of Victor's forearms in a very tasteful way.

Yuuri bets it's soft, the sweater. It looks soft. Cashmere blend, maybe?

His hand is moving before he even thinks about it, and it's only when he rubs it on Victor's arm and Victor gives him a fleeting glance and a sweet, sweet smile, does Yuuri realize what he's doing. He doesn't take his hand back, though. The sweater is delightfully soft, kissing his palm like a lover, and Yuuri can't stop rubbing at Victor's arm – it just feels too nice.

"What is this?" Yuuri asks, whispering his hand up to Victor's shoulder. "I thought it was cashmere, but it feels a little different."

"It's a silk blend," Victor answers. He gives Yuuri another glance as his lips curl in a little teasing smile. "I like soft things touching my body. Don't you?"

Yuuri's eyes flit to Victor's lips and then quickly up. He blushes, snatches back his hand, and turns away, aware of the double meaning behind Victor's words. It helps little that Yuuri's mind jumps straight into that other, less innocent one.

"I prefer something harder, really," Yuuri mumbles, bright red, and pretends that he doesn't hear Victor choking when he adds: "Ah, turn right here."

They turn right, then turn left, and finally park before a small inconspicuous diner. There aren't that many people around, but they still pick a table that is further away from the rest of the patrons. The laminated card menus are sticky when they look through them, but the lady who takes their orders is cheerful and smiling, so they suck it up and stay.

"We come here with Phichit every time he's willing to break his diet," Yuuri says as they wait for their food. "It's not often, but the fries here are to die for. I can't blame him, honestly."

"I don't think you should be telling me this now," Victor teases. "It would be terrible if Phichit somehow stopped fitting into my clothes."

Yuuri shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. He works out twice as hard the next day to lose the calories. If there's one thing he's ever serious about it's modelling. And social media. That's two things, not one, but it's still true, I guess."

Instead of laughing like Yuuri was hoping, Victor only hums.

"One could argue that these are both the same thing," Victor says. He leans forward, forearms resting on the sticky table without a care for his delicate sweater. "Speaking of which... I noticed that you don't have a personal Instagram, Yuuri. That's such a shame. I wanted to follow you."

"I do have one."

Yuuri turns a napkin into a triangle and folds it smaller still with idle hands, while Victor is burning a hole through him, clearly impatient to learn more. Biting his bottom lip a little, Yuuri gives in like he always does: it's Victor, it would be impossible for him to hold out anything from the man.

"I just don't use it as a publicity venue," Yuuri admits. "Or for fashion. It's just a personal account for the things that catch my eye. There isn't much there, to be honest."

"I'd still like to follow you, if that's okay?" Victor asks.

There is concern in the tiny crinkle of his eyes, something soft and tender that has Yuuri's privacy walls go down like melting butter. Victor looks like he's afraid of rejection, yet completely prepared to accept and respect it, should it come. He's incredible, Yuuri thinks, and his admiration of him only strengthens – as a fan of Victor, the designer, and Victor, the man.

Unable to deny him what little he asks for, Yuuri rests his hand on the table, palm up.

"Give me your phone," he says, wiggling his fingers.

Victor does as asked and Yuuri quickly pulls up his profile on Victor's Instagram app. The first picture is of a little dog in the sweetest onesie that had Yuuri melting for a good half an hour when he first saw it and, as Yuuri watches Victor's face turn into delight at seeing it, a thought strikes him like lightning.

This is really happening.

Yuuri is sitting here, in some dingy old diner with Victor Nikiforov. His idol. His crush. His rival. His inspiration. It's surreal, really, to watch Victor smile as he scrolls through Yuuri's personal Instagram while the memory of their kiss is still edged between the ledges of Yuuri's heart.

"You little liar," Victor says suddenly and Yuuri startles, but only to see the soft, silly grin on Victor's face. "You said this wasn't for fashion."

"It isn't," Yuuri defends.

He doesn't know what Victor found, but there should be nothing fashion related on his feed. Victor, however, clearly knows better. He turns the phone around to show Yuuri a screen – a picture of the powder pink chenille knit sweater from VN's fall 2017 collection.

"Then what is this?" Victor asks, silky voice and a teasing smile, and Yuuri can only blush at having been caught red-handed.

"I found it just when I was looking for a Christmas present for Phichit, so I had to make sure I didn't lose it again. That's the only reason it's there," Yuuri explains, biting back his own smile.

He's partially lying, but Victor doesn't need to know how terribly Yuuri worships his clothes. Or that he owns another one of those sweaters himself.

"If you want to know, it looks really good on him," he adds.

"I can only imagine."

"Also, what are you even doing so far down my timeline?"

It's Yuuri's turn to tease and he instantly sees Victor's nose turn the same exact shade of powder pink as the chenille sweater. Yuuri has to bite his cheek to keep himself from grinning at how adorable it looks.

"Nothing," Victor chimes innocently, locking his phone and putting it face down on the grimy table. "Absolutely nothing. And I will continue to do nothing later today, but for now... I should probably pay more attention to you, since we're together at last."

It seems like it's a curse: Yuuri's teasing only lasts a second at best before Victor turns it around again and Yuuri finds himself drowning in his blue eyes and tender smiles. From blushing something terrible, Yuuri is saved by the waitress who returns with their meals. She sets a burger before Victor and an egg and bacon sandwich with a side of curly fries before Yuuri and leaves them alone once again.

"These fries really do look delicious," Victor comments.

"Want to try?" Yuuri offers and pushes his plate a little towards him.

Victor beams like that's all he's been waiting for. He snatches a fry, pops it into his mouth and gives the most pleased hum Yuuri has heard from him. It's only fair that Yuuri's own lips quirk in a smile when Victor looks at him again.

"Delicious," he says.

"I'm glad you like it," Yuuri answers, happy beyond belief for some unknown reason.

They turn to their plates in silence for a moment, but it seems like silence is not in Victor's vocabulary, because after the first two bites, he looks up at Yuuri with intent.

"I was thinking," he starts, "for our collab, there is no need for us to rush, but it would be good to have some timeframe at least. What would you say for a showing in January? I'm seeing an arena plunged in darkness until the clock strikes midnight on December 31st and it becomes New Years and the soft light backs the stage where the first model comes out."

The vision he paints is clear and Yuuri can see the symbolism in it, too. An era of darkness, the passing year, and then suddenly a new light, new beginning, new reign of fashion and beauty. It seems fitting for the collaboration of their respective styles – two opposites joining into one.

"That sounds amazing," Yuuri agrees. "What if we do twelve looks for the twelve times the clock rings at midnight? Each one more progressive as the new hour nears?"

"I love that!" Victor smiles, so full of joy that Yuuri can't help but feel it too. "I must say, Yuuri, I haven't been so excited for a project since... well, probably since the day I first got noticed by Vogue."

"That's–" Yuuri sucks in a breath. "I'm sure that isn't–"

"But it is," Victor interrupts him.

There's some sauce in the corner of his mouth and Yuuri's eyes flit to it without his consent. It's distracting. It's imperfect. It's... oddly precious. Human. It's something that makes Victor much more a man, _just_ a man, than this big personage Yuuri has always looked up to.

Pursing his lips to withhold a comment that surely would be inappropriate, Yuuri offers: "I'm excited to work with you, too, but I have to admit that I'm also nervous about it. Not like I was the first time I met Lilia, but... close enough."

"Nervous? Why would you be nervous around me, Yuuri?" Victor asks. "I can understand Lilia, she's a ruthless demon, but you're a successful designer. There's nothing to be nervous about."

Yuuri gives Victor a little smile.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, but at least my hands aren't shaking as badly as they did back when Lilia asked me to speak about my collection. She's absolutely terrifying."

Victor gives a soft chuckle at that. "She acts like that, but she has a soft heart deep down. I know it."

"You just say that because all she ever does is praise you," Yuuri points out and then blushes at his rudeness.

"You should hear what she has to say to my face sometime," Victor says, utterly amused. "She tears into me like a pair of scissors into muslin."

Yuuri blinks in surprise. He'd never guess it from the polished compliments that always grace the pages of Vogue among the jaw-dropping shots of Victor's creations. Yuuri himself has grown up admiring those spreads, reading column after column of praises under Victor's name, and still – to think that Victor himself is getting as much critique as anyone else is as noveau an idea as Yuuri's mind can comprehend.

"What's the worst thing she ever said to you?" Yuuri asks, curious.

Victor gives a soft hum and smirks into his burger.

"Do you remember my patchwork print maxi skirt for spring last year?" Victor asks. "The one with the–"

"The sort of flowery yellow-black-red pattern?" Yuuri asks. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, Lilia said it looks like I pulled it out of the garbage and mixed it with my grandma's cushion covers," Victor says cheerfully, biting into his burger.

Yuuri gasps. Yuuri stares. Yuuri sputters.

"How– Why– Oh my god, that's... that's savage," he finally settles on, which has Victor chuckling into his food. "Why did she even feature it in the issue then?"

"Apparently they needed colour in the spread, because everyone suddenly was running with leather and black of all things thanks to a certain someone," Victor gives Yuuri a pointed look, "and my garbage grandma skirt was the only thing she deemed worthy. Lilia is a funny woman."

There is nothing funny about Lilia Baranovskaya, Yuuri knows, but he can't fight through his shock to say it out loud. And once he does, something else takes over his focus.

"Are you accusing me of bringing black leather back? Because if you are, then I will have to retaliate. I do not look good in _mustard_ , Victor. Thanks for that, I had an awful time finding anything to wear last winter."

"Oh, I don't know," Victor replies, eyes twinkling.

He reaches across the table and swipes his thumb over Yuuri's bottom lip, or actually below it, only to bring that same thumb to his mouth and lick it. There was mustard in Yuuri's sandwich, he realizes as his eyes grow to the size of saucers, and his cheeks flame red like ketchup.

Victor, smiling, flirty, irresistible Victor, tilts his head and says:

"I think mustard suits you pretty well."

There are no words Yuuri can say, there are no words he can even _think of_ in that moment. His mind goes blank, and all he can feel is the rapid-fire thumping of his heart and the buzz of blood in his ears, which he's sure are as red as his face.

"So, on Sunday," Victor starts, giving Yuuri no reprieve, "how about you bring Vicchan with you? I can bring Makkachin and we'll have a doggy date! That should be fun, no?"

With a small cough to gather himself up into a semblance of a person, Yuuri nods.

"It should, yes," he agrees. "Vicchan is living with my parents though, so I won't be able to bring him, but I'd love to meet Makkachin. Maybe another time?"

Victor's eyes are soft when he smiles at Yuuri next. "Next time would be lovely."

They finish their food, pay – and even if Victor insists, Yuuri pays for them both because "I asked you to come, Victor, I'm paying," – and ride back to the building Yuugen works from. Victor parks a little way from the main entrance, which is kind of thoughtful of him and Yuuri appreciates it greatly, but once the car stops, Yuuri finds that he is in no hurry to leave.

In fact... in fact, he'd rather stay here: with Victor who looks at him like he's thinking the exact same thing.

"I should–"

"Maybe we could–"

They stop at the same time. It takes only a second before they break into laughter, silly as it is.

"You go first," Victor says, but Yuuri shakes his head.

"No, you go. I was just going to say I should be going, so, please. You start."

Victor licks his lips. The action draws Yuuri's attention, but he forces himself to look into Victor's eyes and it's clear to them both what Yuuri has thought about. Victor's smile, as it spreads on his face, is dazzling and sweet, but Yuuri blushes at having been caught nonetheless.

"Actually, I changed my mind," Victor says then. "I will ask you on Sunday."

Yuuri opens his mouth in shock, but closes it just as fast when he sees the brightness of Victor's eyes. There's a playfulness to him, something childlike and vibrant, and Yuuri is– He isn't exactly mesmerized or dazed by it, no. It's a feeling of a much warmer nature, something that burns low in his belly with comfort and delight.

"Alright," he agrees. "I will see you on Sunday then."

He rests a hand on the door, but as soon as he does, Victor's hand rests on Yuuri's other arm.

"Okay, I changed my mind again," Victor says and this time Yuuri huffs a soft breath of amusement. The sheepish grin Victor gives him doesn't help it to fade. "I was going to ask you in a better setting than this, but... well, we never did things the conventional way, did we?"

Yuuri shakes his head. "What were you going to ask?"

"I know you're probably busy with fashion week prep..." Victor starts.

"We're actually almost done, so not really, no," Yuuri interrupts him, leaning a little closer over the gear stick. "I could... have time."

Victor breathes through his mouth and nods. His fringe falls into his eyes and obscures Yuuri's view, so without thinking he reaches out to brush it back. The way pink travels across Victor's cheeks and nose at the gesture has Yuuri himself mirroring the blush, but he doesn't pulls his hand away. He stays his ground and keeps it there, cupping Victor's face lightly.

"Come with me to Paris," Victor blurts out all of a sudden. "For my show. Come with me, Yuuri."

"Oh," Yuuri gives as surprise grips him by the heart.

It's a warm kind of surprise, tender. It's even more so when the sincere want shines at Yuuri from Victor's blue eyes, which are close, so very close that Yuuri can't even see his own reflection in them.

"I'd love to," he whispers.

And when Victor presses his bright, overjoyed smile to Yuuri's lips, Yuuri knows that he means it with his whole heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:
> 
> [chenille one-shoulder sweater](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/caroline-constas-chenille-one-shoulder-sweater/5058280?origin=keywordsearch-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home%2FAll%20Results&color=sienna) bc I'm a sucker for chenille this season (it's making a comeback!!) and I love my soft sweaters  
> [missoni fall 2018 patchwork dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/missoni/slideshow/collection#3)  
> [etro fall 2018 printed maxi dress with a poncho](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/etro/slideshow/collection#5)  
> [etro fall 2018 mirari fringe dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/etro/slideshow/collection#11)  
> [etro fall 2018 zurine asymmetric dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/etro/slideshow/collection#50)
> 
> the last four pics, those at the bottom, are what victor's 'garbage' collection looked like in my mind's eye and tbh??? hands up if you'd wear at least one of those bc I'm definitely in wtf WHO SAID THESE WERE UGLY I WILL FITE


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

 

 

It's raining softly the morning Yuuri loads his suitcase into the taxi trunk. Victor is texting him every minute now, too excited about Yuuri's presence to focus on his own obligations. The ride to the airport isn't the shortest, but with those constant texts, Yuuri finds himself distracted enough not to think of anything else.

Like the paparazzi that will surely be there, or what Victor's entourage will say at seeing Yuuri, or what should Yuuri answer if someone asks why he's in Paris when his own show is only a little over a week later, an ocean away, back in New York...

Yuuri's phone vibrates twice as if it feels his sombre mood. He looks down at the most recent text.

 

 

_My favourite thing in any new place I visit is always the food._

_For France it's the wine, arguably, but wine is always paired best with great food,_

_so it's just double the pleasure in my opinion._

_Oh, agreed! I love good food. Nothing will ever match up to my mom's katsudon,_

_but I'm all for trying everything at least once._

_Looking forward to what France has to offer ^u^)b_

 

__

_Is that a subtle hint I should take you out to dinner? :eyes:_

_Because I may have already made reservations at my favourite restaurant :wink:_

_You shouldn't have! I didn't mean to sound like a leech, I swear._

_You shouldn't be spending time worrying about me when you have a show to run._

 

__

_I'll be fine with room service. Promise._

_Absolutely not! I would kill myself, bring myself to life and then_

_let Chris kill me again if I allowed you to stick with room service in Paris, of all places._

_Perish the thought, Yuuri._

 

Yuuri cannot help his grin.

He's... excited, really, to see Paris with Victor. They agreed to go up the Eiffel Tower whenever time allowed, and to Yuuri, who despite the many times he's visited the city has never been to the observation deck, the prospect is more than thrilling. It's even more so, because it's Victor who offered to take him, Victor who asked him to come, Victor who planned their time and all the attractions... almost as if he was afraid that Yuuri will somehow grow bored just with him alone?

Shaking his head to himself, Yuuri types a quick reply.

 

_I'll be happy with anything, Victor. As long as we're together._

 

He locks his phone and drops it into his pocket when the taxi stops at the International Terminal. Yuuri brings out his suitcase and rolls it into the building. He doesn't even have the time to make his way towards the baggage drop line when his phone buzzes again.

 

_That's so sweet <3 _

_I will be happy no matter what if we can be together as well <3_

_Soon, I'm just checking in <3_

 

He locks his phone and goes through the tedious process of pre-flight checkpoints. At last, he's freed of his suitcase and with only a handy little Louis Vuitton carryon he passes into the duty free zone, which is as interesting as the drying mucus of the remnants of Yuuri's morning coffee. He makes a detour to the bathroom, washes out his travel mug and only once it's safely packed again, does he walk past the last check-in window into the departure terminal.

Gate 11 is almost on the other side of the terminal, so Yuuri walks there with purpose, refusing to answer Victor's text when he's so close now. He sees the signature silver head from afar, not that it's difficult. Victor is tall and attention-grabbing even when he's dressed in plain, everyday clothes like he is now. His back is turned to Yuuri and he seems to be talking to someone – a redheaded woman and a blond boy, who seem rather young, maybe they're models? – so he doesn't notice Yuuri slowly coming up to them.

Yuuri smiles a little as he wonders when Victor will spot him, but it isn't Victor who sees him first. It's the boy. His green eyes snap up to his face and narrow down at him angrily. It's almost a reflex for Yuuri to wonder what he'd done to cause this, but he can't really think of anything so he offers the boy a shaky smile in the hopes of fixing whatever seems to be broken on the interpersonal level. His only answer is a huff before the boy twists on his heel and walks away.

It's that reaction that has Victor look up from his phone.

"Yuuri!" he chirps, a smile warming up his face.

Yuuri has no time to blink because he then has an armful of Victor Nikiforov, who is big, lumpy, heavy, and– God, he's lovely, Yuuri thinks just when Victor nuzzles his cheek on Yuuri's.

"Hi," Yuuri says, unable to hide his grin.

"Hi," Victor says back. He squeezes Yuuri around the waist and Yuuri squeezes him back, but when he lets go, Victor is still clinging to him tightly. "I'm so glad you made it."

"I said I would come, remember?" Yuuri gently reminds him.

Victor has asked him again and again, at least once a day, and sometimes even twice. It betrayed his excitement, but it also showed Yuuri a piece of Victor that he is fairly sure none of his fans are aware of: Victor's insecurity. Yuuri doesn't know why it's there or who put it in Victor's head that Yuuri could change his mind like the winds change, overnight, but he is determined to make sure Victor is always reassured that Yuuri's promises stand whenever he gives them.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Yuuri says again, much to the little happy blush that spreads over Victor's nose.

"I'm glad," he says and it's only then that he uncurls himself from Yuuri.

He takes his hand, however, and locks their fingers together before he begins to pull Yuuri towards where the rest of the VN staff seems to be waiting.

"Come, I'll introduce you to everyone!"

"You don't have to–" Yuuri begins, but Victor cuts him off.

"They were all dying to meet you," he says. "Humour them for me, please?"

Yuuri can't even comprehend what that means, because it's then that they stop before a row of seats. Yuuri sees the blond teen from before, and he sees the redhead too, but the person Victor directs him towards is the one Yuuri has most recognition of.

"Yakov," Victor calls for the man's attention and waits until the newspaper Yakov has been reading rests folded on his lap. "I'd like you to meet Yuuri Katsuki from Yuugen. Yuuri, I'm pretty sure you know this already, but this is Yakov Feltsman, the CEO of VN."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Yuuri says politely as he offers his hand for a handshake.

Yakov's grip is strong, maybe too strong, just as his eyes may be a little too piercing when they drill into Yuuri with intense focus.

"We will see about that, Katsuki," he says. "For now, however, make sure you aren't a distraction. I will feel no shame if I have to leave you here before we even take off."

Victor gasps. "Yakov, you promised to be nice!"

"I did no such thing," Yakov gruffs, then looks at Yuuri again. "You may be a seasoned designer, Katsuki, but this is a VN matter. You're a guest here, understood?"

"Of course, sir," Yuuri quickly says. "If I'm ever in the way, please tell me. I'd hate to ruin all your hard work."

Yakov nods his approval at that and gives a pointed look at Victor.

"You should learn from him, Vitya."

"I plan to," Victor replies with a soft smile directed at Yuuri, who can't help a little blush from gracing his cheeks.

"I meant humility," Yakov adds, but Victor is no longer listening.

He drags Yuuri away, pointing to different people and explaining their roles in the group. The redhead, for example, is VN's main model for the show and will be presenting the final piece in the collection. They see Chris talking on his phone and wave back at him when he does so, too. There is a group of models Victor briefly talks about (with the blond boy from before among them), and the makeup artist of whom he whispers into his ear as the man sniffles into a tissue and ruins his mascara at the same time.

"And over there is our hairstylist," Victor says, nodding his chin towards the man with brown, slightly bushy hair, and yes, Yuuri can imagine that. "He and Chris are actually engaged, you know."

"Oh! That's fantastic," Yuuri smiles in surprise. He looks back at the man who is calmly flipping through some magazine and then at Chris still on the phone, and his smile softens. "Are they happy?"

Victor's little chuckle is all it takes for Yuuri's attention to veer back to him.

"Not a day goes by when I don't hear Chris singing praises about his beau," Victor admits with a grin that Yuuri also matches.

"Good for them."

Victor looks him in the eye. Something in his smile is warmer then, gentler, when he says: "Yes, good for them."

Yuuri doesn't know how to answer this, but it seems unnecessary anyway. They sit together at the far end of the waiting area, their hands still held together. Yuuri pulls them into his lap when Victor rests his head against his shoulder and it's... nice.

Yuuri has never been a fan of waiting, in fact, waiting has always been a synonym to panicking for him, so to realize that – with the weight of Victor's head and the warmth of Victor's body pressed against him in a way that must be slightly uncomfortable over the metal armrest between them – waiting doesn't seem to hold that much power is oddly liberating. And Yuuri isn't mad about it.

"I was thinking of your look for our collection," Yuuri starts in the comfortable silence that sits between them. "The black-red one, with lace, you mentioned?"

"Or mesh, yes," Victor confirms. "What about it?"

"I want to do a box-shoulder wrap jacket from leather. With studs maybe? I think it'd fit that aesthetic pretty well."

Victor hums. "I like that idea. What do you want to use for the bottom?"

"A chequered kilt-like skirt?" Yuuri offers. Victor's hair feels soft where it's brushing against his cheek, so he rests it against Victor's head, adding: "I'm thinking asymmetrical, so it has more character."

"Pleated?"

"No, no, that would be too much. Just a straight fabric. The jacket will be bold enough for both."

"Sounds good," Victor says.

His voice is soft, a mumble almost, and his other hand has come up to play with Yuuri's fingers. It's a small, fond smile that Yuuri hides in Victor's hair when he notices it.

"Have you thought about any other fabrics?" Yuuri asks. "Something to compliment the black and red? Maybe grey?"

"Light gray?" Victor asks and twists his neck to smile at Yuuri. "Like my hair? Are you trying to tell me something, Yuuri?"

Yuuri laughs a little at how silly he looks, but when he answers it's only with the warmth on his tongue, where it spills there straight from his heart.

"I think the grey and blue could go together with this. They're not exactly colours you'd normally pair with red, but we have never been concerned with what's normal, have we? It'd suit us, I think," he says.

"I can't agree more." Victor squeezes his hand once in clear approval. "Speaking of suits, you did promise to make me one back at the party."

"I did, didn't I? Well, I–" he starts, but a sudden idea hits him and he sits up straighter, jostling Victor from his comfortable place on his shoulder. "Ah, sorry! I just had a thought... What if we put the suit in the collection? And then you can make me one, too."

"Now _that_ I could never say no to." Victor smiles at him. "Count me in."

It's Yuuri's turn to squeeze Victor's hand, and Victor squeezes back without hesitation. Before they can agree on any more details, the boarding announcement for their flight sounds through the waiting area. They wait in line to have their passports checked and only once they're seated next to each other, despite having different seats on their boarding passes, do they return back to the topic.

"So light gray, blue, red and black for our colours," Victor says, pulling out the tray by his seat.

He opens his thick sketchbook on top of it and flips a few pages of designs and fabric samples until he stops on a blank page and notes everything down.

"It sounds a little dull," he says once he's done. "Well, not dull, but a fairly settled palette, don't you think? It doesn't have this _spark_. Of course, we could add the spark with the designs themselves–"

"But a spark could be easier done with colour, I hear you," Yuuri agrees as he takes out his own sketchbook.

He bites his lip before he says: "I always wondered what you'd look like in orange."

Victor blinks.

"What?"

The blush overtakes Yuuri's face faster than he can turn his head away, but he ducks his chin down anyway to focus on his book. He taps the empty page with the back of his pen, a sign of nerves if he's ever seen any. Forcing himself to take a deep breath is a struggle, but Yuuri does it, and ploughs through with his terrible, _brilliant_ , but also horribly terrible idea.

"Orange. Neon orange. Spring and summer were full of neons and pastels and it seems like fall will be just the same, so how about it? Neon orange. It could go well with red– What if we do red in neon, too? It would pop, like you want."

"Orange isn't really my colour, if I'm being honest." Victor hums. "I have no problem with neons. They're fun and could be a hit, I agree. But the orange is hard to pull off... I'm not convinced on that one."

"How about I do the orange look and after I'm done you tell me what you think?" Yuuri offers. Before Victor can say anything, Yuuri gives him a little teasing smile. "And if you like it, I'll have you wear it."

The outraged delight that finds home on Victor's face at Yuuri's ultimatum is far too amusing for Yuuri to keep it together. He breaks into a grin at the same time as Victor chuckles.

"You work on that, Yuuri, and we'll see once you create this monstrosity," Victor gives in. Then sighs. "Somehow I have a feeling I will be wearing it anyway."

"I thought you liked my designs," Yuuri chirps, suddenly very giddy and very, _very_ happy.

"I do! I love them. I just never knew you could be cruel enough to put _me_ in _orange_. And neon orange at that!"

He says it with so much playful distaste that Yuuri can't help but crack up.

There are people walking through the aisles, settling into the seats around them, and Yuuri – as he sits in a cramped space with Victor Nikiforov and laughs at the little adorable wrinkle of Victor's nose – has a sudden thought. A thought that melts his laughter into something smaller, something calmer, but just as powerful.

He smiles at Victor, overwhelmed with fondness, and says:

"I never imagined that a day will come where I'll be talking like this with you. It's... amazing, really. I can't tell you how glad I am to be here, Victor. Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" Victor asks, voice as soft as the look in his eyes. "I didn't do anything. It's all you – you created your brand, your designs, your own style. It's really me who should be thanking _you_ for being such an amazing person, because thanks to that I was able to meet you."

"Oh, stop that!" Yuuri blushes. "I didn't do anything–"

"You did to me."

Victor's face is still soft, still gentle, but there is something serious lingering in the little crow's feet around his eyes. It's inconsequential, really, so easy to miss, but Yuuri doesn't. He has spent too little time with Victor to know what this means just yet, but is going to learn.

He wants to.

So he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb down Victor's cheek, a tender caress that is paired with an equally as tender smile.

"I don't know what I did for you, and you don't have to tell me," Yuuri says, "but I'm glad I did it, if it makes you happy."

Victor doesn't smile at him, not this time. He simply takes Yuuri's hand and, reverently almost, rests a kiss in Yuuri's open palm as if he was resting all of his heart right there along with it.

Yuuri's skin tingles at the warmth of Victor's breath, while his own gets stuck in his throat, but only for a second – it flows out of him soon after, along with a new wave of affection that is impossible to stop when Victor's nuzzles his nose over Yuuri's wrist, and his soft, pale eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes.

He's beautiful, he has always been beautiful, and Yuuri still may struggle sometimes to see why Victor has chosen to spend time with him, why Victor has chosen to be with him, but in moments like this, he decides to let it go.

There needs to be no reason, no answer to his whys.

All there needs to be is here and now, and here and now is what they choose to make of it.

So Yuuri chooses for himself: he leans forward and presses his lips to the crown of Victor's head, because he wants to. And that's all that matters, in the here and now, and Yuuri's swollen, sweetly throbbing heart.

 

 

 

 

They spend the whole seven hour flight talking about their collection.

It's new, it's fresh, it's so very exciting that Yuuri has almost ten pages filled with notes and even more ideas than he had before milling around in his head. Everything needs to be edited, fitted, checked and matched, of course, but the fun he's having? That cannot be constricted onto any dress form, so Yuuri lets it flow, lets his heart sing and mouth laugh free, because this is what fashion should be about.

This is what he has always believed in: art and joy.

It helps that Victor's smile never leaves his face and his hair gently brushes against Yuuri's cheek when they bow over their sketchbooks together. It's exactly what Yuuri has always been doing himself, except it's more now. There is Victor to account for, his ideas and views – something that little Yuuri has dreamed about for many, many years.

And it's all coming true now.

"That looks really good," Victor praises the sketch of the wrap jacket Yuuri shows him. "Your draping always has this incredibly effortless grace to it. Makes me so jealous."

Yuuri makes a small noise of protest. "Why would you be jealous of my draping when you can make a whole dress out of a single roll of fabric just draped over a dress form? Victor, _please_."

"I can, sure," Victor agrees with a shrug. "But it doesn't have the same wow factor as your drapes. I'm good at it – passable, if you ask me personally – but you, Yuuri? You're the god of draping."

"Are you teasing me again? Is that it?"

Yuuri looks up from his book, blushing despite his tiny frown. Victor's face is right next to his and he can almost touch Victor's nose with the tip of his own if he leans a few centimetres closer.

He doesn't.

_Victor does._

He lifts his chin and presses his lips to the very tip of Yuuri's nose, right before his face lights up with a warm, tender smile.

"Not this time," Victor answers. "I really do admire your technique. And I'm not the only one, Yuuri. It is no coincidence that everyone calls you the pioneer of avant-garde. Your designs are incredible and you should own it more. Aren't you proud of your work?"

It's an obvious question to answer, but Yuuri hesitates.

"I always felt like there is something missing in my designs," he says slowly. "Something that I can't pinpoint. I'm still trying to find it, but... I don't know. I'm just not sure I can find it, and if I don't... I don't know if I can keep on doing this."

"Can I tell you a secret, Yuuri?" Victor whispers, voice barely audible over the sound of the plane engines that buzz all around the plan. "I have felt what you feel for a very long time, and I've struggled. I've made rash decisions, clung to cheap thrills in order to revitalize my looks, but..."

He flips a page of his sketchbook, then another, then another. All the designs penned into them are what he and Yuuri have drafted in one sitting thousands of feet in the air – and they're brilliant.

But Victor's designs always are, Yuuri thinks. This is not a surprise.

When Victor flips over the last page he and Yuuri have worked on... _there_ comes the surprise. The design is unfinished, abandoned. A printed pencil skirt and the beginnings of a jacket. Something they've seen so many times already that it can't be called anything but boring. Predictable.

Victor flips the page to another: an oversized jacket as a short dress. And there is another on the page after that: a vintage print dress with knee high boots. And one more after that: a mermaid dress with peplum around the waist, which looks more bridal than fashion.

It's then that Yuuri understands.

Victor doesn't need to say a word, because Yuuri knows what he will say even before he opens up his mouth. He reaches for Victor's hand, squeezing it tight and Victor... Victor squeezes back. There is a small smile on his face, but it's a bleak one. He doesn't truly look Yuuri in the eye, just looks at the area somewhere around Yuuri's eyebrow, when he speaks.

"It's been like this for a while," he admits quietly. "I've been... struggling. Even considered quitting, because a designer without ideas isn't a designer anymore and should not be tasked with creating anything, but by grasping at straws I managed to hold onto this career. God knows why."  

He pauses then, and Yuuri thinks this is his cue to say something, except he doesn't know what. There is no right thing to say here and all the wrong things that could ruin everything: what they have, Victor's passion, his fondness of Yuuri.

It's not entirely fear that stops Yuuri from speaking, but it's there, too. It sits in the pit of his stomach, cold and ready to take over if he loses focus.

So Yuuri focuses on the fingers of Victor's hand that are woven with his own, and it's to those fingers that he speaks:

"If you ever want to quit, it's your choice to make, Victor. I don't think anything good will come out of forcing yourself to make new things. I– I do love your designs. The recent ones, too. But if the cost of making them is higher to you than what you get in return then..."

"Should I quit, Yuuri?" Victor asks, serious. "Is that what you think after seeing this? Now that the great Victor Nikiforov is no longer bustling with creativity, he should just slink away into the shadows and let the other's carry the baton?"

Victor makes a move like he wants to pluck his hand out of Yuuri's hold, so Yuuri holds it tighter instead and pulls on it to make Victor look at him. He does, guarded and wounded – it's all in his eyes.

"No," Yuuri says, hard. "I don't ever want you to quit. You're my inspiration, Victor. You have been for years."

Victor's eyes widen at the confession. Yuuri can tell his cheeks are flushed from the honesty of his words, but he is focused on simply making Victor understand, so he carries on to say what he wants to say the most.

"I have looked up to you since I was a boy and it's because of you that I decided to take design seriously. It's because of you that I'm sitting here. And yes, your style may have changed over the years, and you have grown into different things than what you used to do at the very beginning of your career. You may be stagnating now, but do you remember what you once said in an interview? " _No one can rely on work alone when creating. We all need inspiration. And the only way to get that is to live our lives to the fullest._ " So if you're struggling, if inspiration is hard to find, then maybe... maybe you need to step back for a while – not quit, but take a step back from the fashion scene – and try to enjoy your life for a while before you decide what it is you truly want to do."

Yuuri's lungs hurt when he finishes speaking, but he's too determined to get everything out before the courage leaves him. He sucks in a deep breath and adds:

"I'm not saying that you should quit, Victor. But if that is something that you think really hard about and decide to do, then I – as your fan and your," Yuuri swallows here, and squeezes Victor's fingers while his cheeks redden further, "your boyfriend – I will support you and trust you, because there is no one in the world that can know what is better for you than _you_. I might not be too happy about it, but I will never put that before your wellbeing, so just... just be yourself, Victor. Be yourself and decide what you want to do for yourself. Be honest. That's all you ever need to be, for me, and for your fans."

Finally done, Yuuri gives Victor a small, hesitant smile.

It's hard to tell what exactly Victor is thinking: his face is blank. Closing his eyes, Victor takes a deep breath and rests his head against the back of his seat. He's still turned to Yuuri, so his hair covers his face, but Yuuri keeps watching him even as fear that he overstepped grabs him by the heart.

He doesn't miss the moment when Victor opens his eyes again and blue peeks at him from within a silver veil. Yuuri has a distinct vision of a light gray cloak with blue fur on the lapels, but he blinks out of his fashion mindset when Victor speaks.

"Your boyfriend, huh?" Victor asks, lips quirking into a little smile. "I like the sound of that."

And before Yuuri can become a flustered mess, Victor adds: "Thank you."

He looks soft in the warm light of the sun slowly setting behind the plane window.

"There's no need to thank me."

Yuuri offers Victor a little smile and this time Victor answers it with one of his own. It's a precious, small thing, but Yuuri finds it more beautiful than any of the smiles he's seen on paparazzi photos, because this one is real – and it's all for him.

"Yuuri," Victor starts and Yuuri sees his lips moving, but–

_"Good evening from France to you all, passengers of Air France Airlines. This is your captain speaking. We have just entered the airspace over Paris and will be making our way to our final destination at Charles de Gaulle airport. Estimated arrival is set at 6:55 in the evening, local time. The weather in Paris is partially cloudy, 18°C. We hope you have had a pleasant flight and will choose to travel with Air France Airlines again. Thank you."_

"What were you saying?" Yuuri asks Victor once the announcement is over. "I couldn't hear you."

Victor's smile doesn't change when he lifts himself off the backseat and shakes his head. He leans close and presses his lips in a quick kiss to Yuuri's cheek.

"It's nothing," he replies. "Don't worry about it."

Words such as those have never worked on Yuuri before and they don't do now, but Victor's unbearably fond and soft smile does. Yuuri squeezes Victor's hand and Victor squeezes back without hesitation, and it's more than enough for Yuuri.

They land in Paris not half an hour later, welcomed by a cloudy sky, but when they look into each other's eyes, the future that spans before them seems bright.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [overnight louis vuitton man's handbag](https://eu.louisvuitton.com/eng-e1/products/overnight-taiga-010015) which yuuri takes with him on the plane bc he's fashionable like that yo  
> [hermes birkin bag by a japanese designer ginza tanaka](https://www.luxos.com/news/fashion/5260-the-twelve-most-expensive-handbags-in-the-world) which costs $1.9mln and is made of 100% platinum and is encrusted with 2k of diamonds and another 8-carat pear-shaped diamond in the front GOOD LORD  
> [same bag different pic](https://www.thebillionaireshop.com/hermes-birkin-ginza-tanaka-bag-1-9-million/) bc holy fuck I'm still not over that WHAT EVEN FASHION
> 
> (also js but... that bag isn't even that pretty...)
> 
> but forget the bag IT'S TIME TO _PARIS_  
>  who's hype to die? ;3c


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling pretty awful about everything and my dog bit another dog just yesterday which was nerve-racking so I'm a complete mess, please, forgive me for not answering any comments today or within the next few days, I need to just... not be among people rn  
> I'm sorry, I'll be back to answer everything soon, I promise

 

 

 

 

 

"And how exactly do you mistake two single rooms into one double, I wonder?" Victor asks, a cold smile on his face.

The receptionist pales even further. Her lips tremble while she tries to double check the booking in the system, but it comes back the same way as it has the first time: the two rooms Victor personally reserved, one for him and one for Yuuri, have magically merged into one.

Everyone else has already checked in and left to settle down in their own rooms, but here Victor is, a good half an hour later, still trying to make heads or tails out of this unfortunate situation.

"I'm so sorry, sir–"

"Okay, okay, let's try it a different way," Victor interrupts her, aware of Yuuri's gaze at the back of his head. "Can you now switch us to two singles then?"

"I'm sorry, but we're all booked out," she replies. "It's fashion week."

She says it like it's obvious and for a second there Victor has an out-of-body experience. It's fashion week. His booked rooms aren't there, and it's fashion week, and the receptionist at the hotel Victor always stays at during his visits in Paris tells him that they don't have room because it's _fashion week_.

Like _Victor Nikiforov_ wouldn't know that.

He closes his eyes, a frown on his face. Running a hand through his hair doesn't help at all, but it gives him time to mentally dial down the pettiness that is rising up his throat.

"Is there a problem here?"

Victor looks up just in time to see a familiar face appear at the woman's side. The relief is almost instantaneous.

"Ah, Oscar! It's so good to see you. How are you?" Victor asks, smiling at the general manager of Le Bristol Paris.

"Flourishing, as always," Oscar answers with a satisfied nod. "But there seems to be a hold up here. What might be the matter? Anything I can help with?"

Victor sighs and explains: "You see, I booked two singles for myself and a guest of mine, but what was put into your system is a single double-bed room. For obvious reasons, that cannot work out for us."

"I see," Oscar says. He leans over the woman who is still pale and terrified, and checks something on the computer. "There are no empty singles left, but we always take care of our clients to the best of our ability, so let me figure something out. How about you and your guest dine in our restaurant while we sort this out? On the house, of course."

"That would be splendid, Oscar, thank you," Victor accepts graciously.

With a little smile that slips off his face the moment he turns away, he walks up to Yuuri. Brown eyes are filled with concern when Victor looks at him, so he forces another smile onto his face, but this one feels even more empty than the one before. It's really a surprise to no one that Yuuri takes notice.

"What's wrong?"

Victor relays the whole matter to him in a few short sentences. Yuuri's frown disappears the more he talks and once Victor is done, Yuuri offers him a little smile.

"We could take the double, though?" he offers. "I mean, if you're okay with sharing the room before the show. It's still a double, so there will be separate beds. In short, it'd be just like rooming with a friend. I'm sure we've both been through worse, no?"

"That's true, but I will probably be running around a lot and my room will be a come and go place for all the last minute work–" Victor starts, concerned on Yuuri's behalf, but Yuuri shakes his head at him – still with a smile on his face, which makes him look cute in his rumpled clothes, messy hair and those blue-rimmed glasses.

Victor wants to squeeze his cheeks and kiss him senseless, to be quite honest.

"It's not the first time I've been at a fashion show, Victor," Yuuri says, his voice slightly chiding. "I can deal with all that. Maybe even help you out, if you want my input?"

The sound Victor makes is a little pitiful considering how much he wants and _doesn't want_ Yuuri's help, all at the same time. It makes Yuuri's grin wider.

"Go get our key, then," Yuuri tells him. "I really want to take a long shower."

The thought doesn't register in Victor's mind until he's back at the desk, asking for the double room.

Yuuri will be in the same room as him. Yuuri will be sleeping in a bed right next to him. Yuuri will be _showering_ in the same bathroom as him.

And oh, that image sticks like glue.

Victor can already see himself sitting on his bed, drying his hair, when Yuuri comes out of the bathroom in the hotel issued soft bathrobe. He's wrapped in steam from the hot shower and his hair is slightly damp still, pushed out of his face to show his beautiful forehead, and dripping delicious droplets onto the glowing skin of his neck–

"Here's your key, sir," the receptionist hands him the card.

Victor snaps out of his thoughts, aware of the blush on his cheeks. "Thanks."

He quickly grabs the key and meets Yuuri at the elevator. He's fairly certain that his face is still red, but if Yuuri notices it, he doesn't comment on it. In silence, they make it to their room and pick a bed each. Or rather, Yuuri picks a bed: he just drops down on the first one like a dead person, and Victor can't help a snicker when he just jumps around a bit on the mattress from the force of it.

"Don't laugh," Yuuri complains. "I hate travelling. I get terrible jet lag, so whatever joy there is when I'm in new places, it's sucked out of me at least until the second day."

"Should I assume you're going to be dead the whole day tomorrow?" Victor asks, propping his suitcase against the wall next to his night stand.

"Probably not," Yuuri answers. "Just the most of it."

"Too bad! I was hoping we could go on a date before the big show on Wednesday."

He glances at Yuuri.

The soft light of the setting sun wraps around the room in a veil of fire, like a shawl of orange and pink ombre. Yuuri mentioned neon orange for their collection, but as Victor looks at him now – on the neat bed in his rumpled clothes, yet with warm, sweet eyes looking back at Victor – somehow he begins to reconsider his stance on it. Orange might not be that bad of an idea...

"Are you blackmailing me, Mr. Nikiforov?" Yuuri asks, voice as soft as his expression.

"Is it working?" Victor asks back, unable to move from his place so as not to break the moment.

"It might be," Yuuri admits.

There is something in Yuuri's eyes, something tender and intimate, almost like the flame of a candle, which is beautiful while it lasts, but can flicker out at the smallest of gusts. It's warm and it's comforting, a glow that isn't bright, but heals all the rips and seams of Victor's pin-stitched heart.

Victor doesn't think about it when he crosses the room and leans over Yuuri. Those incredible eyes never leave him, not even when Victor's knee dips into the mattress at Yuuri's side. For a single moment Victor hesitates when he feels Yuuri's breath on his lips, but Yuuri's gaze still remains warm, inviting, and, trusting in it, Victor kisses Yuuri the same way he feels now: mellow and sweet, and full to the brim with it.

Yuuri kisses him back while one of his hands comes up to rest against the side of Victor's face. It cradles his cheek like something precious, like _Victor_ is something precious, and it sends Victor's heart into a frenzy that he has a hard time adjusting to. Yuuri must know it well, because his other hand settles on Victor's chest, right where his heart beats out of alignment, and the soft pressure of it is a comfort that Victor never knew could exist until now.

He rests his free hand on top of Yuuri's and holds it there as his heart beats against both of their palms.

"We should probably go to sleep early then," Victor says, looking down into Yuuri's gentle, warm eyes.

"Probably, yes," Yuuri answers.

His cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink and his lips are glazed, tempting. He looks ravishing, and it's hell for Victor to pull back, which he honestly can't do. He is a moth drawn to Yuuri's light. Any resistance he could've ever had, is gone now, replaced by the deep, burning want inside of him that he craves to have fulfilled...

But not today, he tells himself.

With a little kiss pressed to Yuuri's lips and then one more to his nose, Victor pulls away. He sits back and smiles when Yuuri rolls his head to the side to keep looking at him, expression sweeter than honey.

"You should take that shower you wanted," Victor tells him. "It usually takes me a while to get through my nighttime routine, so I'll do the gentlemanly thing and let you go first."

Yuuri's smile is a slow and lazy thing, but it's all the more precious for it.

"It's fine," he says. "I'm not sleepy yet, so you go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

Yuuri hums. He lifts his hand and Victor watches how it slowly nears his face, only to then have one of Yuuri's fingers boop him on the nose. The gesture in and of itself is already adorable enough to melt Victor's heart into ridiculously smitten mush, but to add to it, Yuuri gives him a sappy little smile and says:

"I'm sure."

With his cheeks inexplicably warm, Victor gathers himself up and locks himself in the bathroom.

It's spacious and bright, and so much different from the bedroom softly wrapped in the last light of the day. There is no remnants of Yuuri's warm presence here, but Victor feels it nonetheless, like a lingering caress right across his heart. A hug, which he can't – and doesn't want to – escape from.

Victor goes through his skincare routine, takes a quick shower and pats himself dry with a fluffy towel on autopilot. So many things should be weighing on his mind with the runway show this close, but somehow he just can't think of that now. Not with his heart sitting in his chest like a warm coal that spreads wave after wave of delight, and joy, and happiness through his tired limbs.

It's oddly numbing, that feeling. In a good way, too. Victor has never been one to ignore his work, not for long at least, but when he looks into the steam-fogged mirror and sees his reflection in it, he doesn't know what to think anymore.

Because the Victor who looks back at him isn't the same person he used to be.

A few months back, before Yuuri even came into his life, he was almost done with fashion. He was ready to step down. Maybe not exactly ready, but he was talking himself into giving up. He didn't want to, but with the slump his creativity has been in, it seemed like the only viable solution.

And Yuuri changed it all.

Not him exactly, either. Just what he brought with him and... well, maybe him, too. A little bit.

Yuuri's designs have a freshness to them, something that Victor has been trying to squeeze out of himself for a good many seasons, and mostly failed. There is a breath of unexpected in Yuuri's work, an upbeat heartbeat, a freedom – but freedom of mind, constricted by the intricacy of his looks, yet still remaining free and unbound as if in spite of the forms he shapes his designs in.

It's all those things Victor has always admired in fashion, what he himself has always strived to put in his own work, so when Yuuri entered his life all of a sudden, Victor took it as a sign that everything was about to change. _And it did._

Compared to a few months ago, now Victor can feel himself rising from the ashes. It's still a struggle to break through the walls that rose up like weeds in the beautiful garden of his mind, yes, but whenever he comes to a halt, Yuuri is there to take his hand and lead him to the crossroads to offer him a choice once more: and it's a free choice that Victor can make himself, and which Yuuri will follow through at his side – it's a thrill and a safety blanket, all in one. 

The inspiration comes and goes, as is its prerogative, and that hasn't changed a bit. But Victor knows that in Yuuri he has found his muse: he's the one thing that acts like a signal tower, drawing that inspiration in and passing it onto Victor with a sweet kiss that fills him with wonder and will to create.

Lightly, Victor touches his lips. They're soft from the shower, still pink from the kisses he shared with Yuuri.

It's incredible how much Victor rests on the shoulders of one man. After all, Victor has never been a person who attributes his success to anyone but himself and his hard work. And maybe Lilia and Yakov, who have all but raised him in this cutthroat world. But to think that Yuuri Katsuki, someone Victor has only met a few months ago, can hold so much of Victor's fate within the palms of the hands which are even smaller than Victor's...

Just be yourself, Yuuri has told him.

As Victor looks into the mirror at his shining eyes, flushed skin, slightly swollen lips, he wonders what that means to him. Who is he? Victor Nikiforov, yes, that's who. A designer, a lover of fashion, a friend – and a good one, he believes.

Just be yourself, Yuuri said.

But who is Victor himself? And more importantly, who is Victor without his craft? 

It's been so long since he worried about anything else than work, since he let himself experience anything else but another chase after the new and original that... he doesn't really know. He doesn't know, and cannot imagine who he was before, or who he could be in the future – he doesn't really want to imagine it.

Fashion is everything to him.

It's fashion that has been a home to him, it's fashion that has been a friend when Victor had none. It's fashion that made him who he is, helped shape him into the man he is now.

But maybe fashion doesn't have to mean design. Maybe, just maybe, it doesn't have to be that hard.

Victor rests his hands on the edges of the sink and bows his head down as a little incredulous laughter slips from between his lips.

Maybe all he needed to realize that was a smart boy to kiss all the useless worries out of him, only leaving the best and most honest parts of him that would lead him to an answer he could be happy with.

And _God_ , Victor thinks, _thank you for sending him my way_.

He pats a hydrating overnight mask onto his face and leaves the truth revealing mirror behind to join the man who must have been a gift to him from the Heavens, he's so good and unreal, only to see him still slumped on his bed. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's asleep.

Victor should feel disappointed in all honesty: he's with his boyfriend in Paris, the city of love, and they are alone, sharing a room. It could lead one into thinking that something might be happening between them, something more than just brief sappy kissing. And while Victor has prepared for all those 'maybe something' possibilities in advance, this one he did not take into account.

Which is not to say that he is disappointed. Quite the opposite in fact.

He drops his toiletries on the one table they have and moves over to Yuuri. It's not a ton of work to unlace his shoes and wrap him in a spare blanket he finds in the little closet by the door, so Victor does it while still smiling. He's probably unable to stop, he thinks as he looks at Yuuri's sleep-softened face. Just doing this feels incredibly... fulfilling in some way. Like Victor is helping, being useful, but also being needed. Accepted. Wanted.

It feels good.

Even if there is no sex in the nearest future, Victor somehow feels like that would be okay too, because this is enough.

He rests a little kiss on Yuuri's temple before he takes off the glasses Yuuri only managed to push up his head, and places them on the nightstand where Yuuri will easily find them. It's still a little early to sleep, Victor thinks, but watching Yuuri look so adorable and snuggly makes his own mouth tear apart in a yawn he barely covers with a hand. Travelling is never pleasant and that, along with the stress of the upcoming few days, convince Victor to give into it, too. There's no use resisting when he has nothing better to do, after all.

Before that, though, Victor grabs his phone and snaps a quick photo of the view outside the window. The sun is setting down low and the day is already turning into night. Further away in the distance, the Eiffel Tower looms over the city. It's only a part of it that he captures in the picture, but it still looks pretty enough that Victor slaps a few filters on it and posts it to Instagram.

 

_happy to be back, excited for the future :kissing_heart:_

 

He smiles at the post as it quickly begins to pile up notes, and locks his phone. Let them wonder, he thinks. Let them think that Victor is looking forward to the show. Let them think he's talking about his new collection. Let them think what they want.

Victor smiles to himself as he drops the phone on the nightstand next to Yuuri's glasses and climbs into the same bed with Yuuri, while his own remains unmade and untouched. He doesn't touch Yuuri, not really, but he curls up behind him with a tiny, happy smile.

Let them all speculate, Victor thinks as he slips into blissful sleep. For once, he will choose what he wants to do. He will live his life to the fullest.

 

 

 

 

What Victor wakes up to is a little ticklish feeling of fingers softly brushing his hair away from his face. He's warm, and the feeling is nice, so Victor makes a small noise of content into the sheets that smell like sleep and lavender.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" a voice next to him whispers and the hand disappears, which makes Victor whine pathetically.

"No, keep doing that, please," Victor begs.

The hand returns, just as gentle, just as warm, and he sighs.

"It's nice."

Victor doesn't know that he's smiling until he gives in and cracks his eyes open. The room is bright, he forgot to lower down the blinds, but the morning sun isn't harsh just yet. It lights up everything, and it lights up Yuuri, who is resting on his side within an arm's reach from Victor, petting his hair like he has been for a good few minutes.

"Good morning," Yuuri says.

"Mm, good morning," Victor replies, still with that same smile.

He doesn't move closer, doesn't wrap Yuuri in a hug. He wants to, oh, he does, but Yuuri looks sleep-worn, soft around the edges, and Victor feels that if he moves too soon, this sweet charm of a Parisian early morning will break like a soap bubble.

"Why are we in one bed?" Yuuri asks.

"I was cold, so I snuck into yours," Victor answers, which is not entirely a lie. "Sorry."

"And did you, perhaps, think that maybe if you got dressed you wouldn't be cold?"

Yuuri gives a pointed look to Victor's bathrobe, which has loosened overnight and exposed much more of his chest than it did when he first tied it.

"Outrageous," Victor gives in return, absolutely serious. "I would never do something so barbaric. Clothes in bed! What's next? Wearing underwear when you go out?"

Yuuri's eyes twinkle with mirth when he bites his lip to keep from laughing. He's beautiful like this, he's always beautiful to Victor, but like this? He looks even more radiant than the sun itself.

"So dramatic," Yuuri teases.

"It's fashion," Victor teases back, and this time they both laugh.

Yuuri's hand slips from Victor's hair down his face, then to the corner of his mouth where the thumb presses against Victor's smile. It's an invitation, if Victor has ever seen any. A quick question about boundaries, which Victor answers without words as well – he takes the hand and shifts himself forward to put his still smiling lips on Yuuri's.

The kiss is short, but only the first one. Victor pulls back after a second only to have Yuuri kiss him next. In a bed in Paris in the early morning hours of the day when the world is still not fully awake yet, they melt into each other with the same reverence in their kisses.

There is no rush in the lips Victor keeps drinking life from, not like that night at Chris' gala. Here, now, they are wrapped in softness and gentle warmth that seeps under Victor's skin until he's too hot in his bathrobe, until he impatiently climbs onto Yuuri and unfurls the belt that keeps it all together.

Yuuri is flushed a deep red and he refuses to look all the way down to where Victor straddles him. It's precious, Victor thinks as he dives down to kiss Yuuri again. It's sweet, this kind of shyness that Yuuri feels comfortable enough to show him.

Yuuri's hands find Victor's cheeks and he holds him there, kissing him one by one, and then deeper.

With Yuuri's tongue in his mouth, Victor moans. And then he squeaks when a loud knocking on the door startles them both.

Victor looks down into Yuuri's flushed face and widened eyes, and he's fairly certain that he's sporting much the same mussed up look.

"Maybe they'll go away?" he offers, hopeful.

The knocking comes again, and after it Yakov's familiar gruff voice bellows: "Vitya, get up! I have business to talk with you!"

Victor groans.

"Well, that's great. He isn't going away."

Yuuri gives him a small smile.

"I need a shower anyway, so you should go take care of this. We can, um... continue... later?"

He's blushing hard when he says it. When Victor doesn't immediately reply, too smitten with the lovely man underneath him, Yuuri adds with a nervous lilt to his voice:

"Of course, only if you want to! If you don't then that's fine, that's, um, that's completely fine! I was just–"

"I'd love to," Victor interrupts him and steals another kiss from Yuuri's lips just as the knocking gets louder. "I'd love to, anytime."

Yuuri's blush takes over his entire face and he nods stiffly at Victor's declaration. It's with a little laugh, a kiss to Yuuri's burning cheek and a lighter heart than he expected after being so rudely interrupted, that Victor climbs off of Yuuri, and makes his way to the door. He ties the bathrobe around his waist more securely before he throws open the door.

"Yakov! Good morning to you, too!" Victor chirps. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

" _We_?" Yakov asks, ignoring the cheerful welcome. "What we?"

"Yuuri is sharing the room with me," Victor explains as he gestures Yakov inside and the man steps through. "We had some trouble with the booking, so we decided to just go with it. But why are you here?"

They both pause when Yuuri passes by them on his way to the bathroom. He bows a little to Yakov in greeting and slinks away without a word. His ears are a little pink and Victor needs to bite back a silly, happy grin when he looks at Yakov again. He'd get another scolding if he doesn't, but... is it really so awful that he feels like he could hug the entire world today and sing from the rooftops?

It's only when the doors to the bathroom close that Yakov turns back to Victor, frowning.

"There's been a problem," he says and the way he says it makes Victor's heart freeze. "With the shipment. One of the dresses got damaged. They don't know how, and we'll be suing for damages anyway, but the fact remains – one of the dresses isn't runway ready. You need to pick a backup."

The breath Victor releases from his lungs is pained, but it's not the worst situation he's ever been in.

"Okay. Okay, fine. I'll take a look at what else we have left that could fit into the collection. Which dress was it?"

"The colourful one," Yakov says like it explains everything and for a second there Victor wants to snap at him, because _what does that even mean?_

There's three in the whole collection, more actually if Victor counts the fringe dress and the mixed dresses, but what Yakov must mean is one of the others: the pleated mini and standard, or the cutout. They're all similar and they're all colourful, so Yakov's description helps to narrow it down... well, _not at all_.

"Which colourful one?" Victor asks. "How does it look like? What colours?"

Yakov grunts at that. "Aren't they all supposed to have the same colours? It's the one that looks like you threw a few scarves together. I don't know what you call it."

Victor thankfully does. And thank God it's not the cutout mini, because he has spent so long on that one and he loves it quite a lot, so if it was the one damaged he'd probably be really, really mad right now. As is, however, he is only a little mad.

He pulls up the picture of the asymmetric pleated dress and shows it to Yakov.

"This one?"

"No," Yakov judges after he squints at the screen and with a heavy heart Victor shows him the multicolour mini. "This one, yes."

The curse that leaves Victor's mouth is neither pretty nor polite, but Yakov doesn't chide him for the language. He never did. And now when Victor has a good cause to curse, he only grunts in what seems to be agreement.

If Victor wasn't upset about the dress, he might have enjoyed this little bonding moment.

"Fix it soon," Yakov tells him. "The show is in two days, so make sure you aren't running around like a headless chicken right before it starts."

With that, he's gone.

Victor has no time to be upset about the matter, not that he doesn't want to be. He has a hole in his collection to fill and it's a big one, because the mini dress was supposed to be a star piece. It was supposed to bring life and colour in, to breathe more life into the other looks. And now it's out and Victor needs to find a replacement for it that can do what it did, which is virtually impossible, bordering on insane.

He'll still have to try, though.

He groans and falls back onto the bed he and Yuuri slept it. Even Yuuri's scent that lingers in the sheets doesn't entirely help to soothe his upset heart. What does, though, is Yuuri himself, who comes back into the room freshly showered and still dewy, and takes one look at Victor to know that something is wrong.

"We'll fix it," he says once Victor is done complaining into the pillow his face is smushed in. "I'll help, if you want?"

"Would you really?"

Yuuri's smile has no hesitation in it when he nods. "Whatever you need."

"Thank you," Victor returns the smile. It stays on his face only for a moment, though. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, Yuuri! I promised you a date today! This is awful, I'm the worst boyfriend ever... Bailing on you like that because of work... that's so low."

"It's fine, I understand," Yuuri says softly.

He takes Victor's hand and squeezes it gently. It's a strange, strange thing, this calm around him, but Victor can't help to take advantage of it. Yuuri smiles at him, benevolent and kind, which Victor returns with a smile that has no actual reason to be that happy.

"You're too kind to me," Victor says back.

"Not really," Yuuri argues. "Only kind enough to score another date with you after the crisis is averted."

The laughing kiss that Victor presses against Yuuri's mouth when he picks himself up from the bed is one that makes his heart and soul feel far lighter than they did just mere moments ago.

"We better take care of this soon, then," Victor says, smiling. "I don't think I can wait too long for that date."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [balmain fall 2018 asymmetric pleated dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#56)  
> [balmain fall 2018 fringed dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#18)
> 
> if you didn't notice yet, I adore this collection, so there will be lots more to come from them soon!  
> and lots more drama too, we're only getting started...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your kind words, guys, you have no idea how much your support means to me <3 I'm incredibly lucky to have all of you reading my works, and it's definitely a feeling I want to cherish for as long as I can, because this writer-readers relationship is something so very special that losing it would be like losing a limb yrxcvjubghn but I guess what I'm trying to say is THANK YOU and here's another chapter for all you wonderful souls to enjoy //sends out love and smooches

 

 

 

 

 

From the polaroids of all the dresses in the collection taped to the hotel room wallpaper, they settle on the mixed silk pleated mini with knee-high pleated leather boots. It's the only look that works for the colour scheme and the story of the collection as the whole, so Victor reluctantly agrees to use it. He's still not happy about it, but he can't possibly create a whole new dress from scratch in what little time there's left... Well, he _can_ , but he won't. It's just not worth–

"It's a shame," Yuuri says, touching the silver sleeve of the damaged mini.

It's torn in two places and stained with something muddy and sticky. Victor doesn't even protest Yakov's intentions to sue when he sees what's become of his creation. Yuuri seems to be just as regretful when he first sees the extent of the damage.

"It's such a pretty dress. I would've loved to see it on the runway..."

And if Victor was anyone else but himself, he maybe would've thought nothing of it. But as it is, that's all it takes for Victor to find himself ordering his assistant to get him new materials and pleating a replica of the dress only two days from the big runway show.

Yuuri is surprised at first, shocked into silence. It makes Victor think that maybe it's not such a good idea, but then Yuuri smiles – and it's a smile that gives Victor wings.

So he works. He pleats the material until his fingers ache and once they do, Yuuri pulls him away from the dress form set up in the middle of their hotel room. With a kiss and a smile, he puts a mug of tea in Victor's hands, after which he sits Victor down to rest.

It's important to take breaks, it's healthy. But the first time Yuuri does this, Victor resists, because he needs all the time he has left to finish this dress, and if he doesn't–

"We'll switch," Yuuri says to that. "You'll rest and I'll pleat under your direction. Sounds good? Just tell me what to do."

"I can't let you do this," Victor protests. "This is my dress and my mess to get out of, but thank you for offering."

"I won't insist if you really don't want my help, but I want to do this, Victor. Let me help you." Yuuri's eyes look into Victor's so earnestly that Victor has trouble to keep staring him in the eye. "Consider me just an apprentice dressmaker and direct me like you'd normally do. Together we can finish this in half the time, come on. It can be a tryout before our collection."

Victor doesn't really know, not until then, that Yuuri can be a really stubborn person when he's set his mind on something, and it's not entirely off-putting, this bull-headed drive of his. It's actually quite charming. Which is also why Victor finally agrees after they stare at each other for a hard moment that has Victor's heart trembling with admiration and gratitude.

So while Yuuri works on another few layers of pleating and Victor drinks his tea and eats a light lunch, they still make progress with the dress.

"I'm sorry," Victor says when it's time for them to switch again. He steps behind Yuuri who puts one last pin into the form. "I promised you a date and this is definitely not what I had in mind."

But Yuuri only shakes his head at him. "It's still fun, isn't it?"

Chuckling, Victor takes Yuuri's hands and rests two little kisses on both.

"Everything is fun when I'm with you," he confesses and once he looks up, it's to see Yuuri's cheeks flushing in soft pinks. It makes his own heart sing in happy tunes, and once again he thanks whatever deity has been looking out for him for this gift of love.

"Now, let's get this done and have some fun outside. It's Paris, after all! We can't sit here all day cooped up!"

They _do_ sit there all day cooped up.

Victor whines and groans, but by the time the sun disappears beyond the horizon the dress still isn't done. It's mostly there, yes, but it still requires some finishing touches. Some polishing and petting, because VN name deserves only the best and Victor can't send something that doesn't meet his standards down the runaway.

Yuuri says it's fine. He tells Victor not to worry, reminds him that they have more than just tomorrow left in Paris. And he is right, of course. But Victor imagined all of this differently...

He imagined a candle lit dinner on their first night, sharing some sweet wine with Yuuri before returning to their hotel. Kissing goodnight before Yuuri's room, and then maybe kissing him again, because Victor isn't ready to leave, and Yuuri kissing him back because he isn't ready to let him go, either. And maybe there could also be a full night of kissing and passion and love, because this is _Paris_.

Their Paris, however, isn't that romantic. It's hardly romantic at all.

It's work and yawns, and sleepy smiles. It's rubbing eyes and looking from the clock to the still imperfect dress. It's giving up on dinner, quick showers, and a few tired kisses exchanged before the other falls asleep.

Unlike the previous night, Victor lets Yuuri into the bathroom first. He looks through his social media accounts while the shower is humming over the bathroom wall. There's some drama going on in the comments section of his last Instagram update and he looks at his post before he even remembers what it was: the picture of the view from their hotel window.

Oh, Victor thinks when he sees the comments.

 

 

 **glamadam** GUYS oh my god do you even see this???

 **catwalkbabe** that's such a beautiful view!

 **theenglishchanel** is that a bed in the reflection?

 **itsfashionbitch** forget the bed is that SOMEONE IN IT

 **buymeguccipls** omg who even

 **callmehaute** VICTOR WE NEED ANSWERS

 **missonimpossible** wait wasn't nikiforov seen with katsuki recently? there was that big scandal and pics of them kissing going around

 **itsfashionbitch** IS THAT YUURI KATSUKI WITH VICTOR NIKIFOROV IN PARIS, THE CITY OF LOVE???

 **sophistikation** do you guys honestly think nikiforov and katsuki would be staying in one room even if they were both in paris?

 **sophistikation** not to mention that katsuki is set to show in new york's fashion week, which is in less than a week

 **itsfashionbitch** but if that isn't katsuki... then who?

 **sophistikation** he doesn't have time to be in paris

 **glamadam** IS VICTOR NIKIFOROV CHEATING ON HIS BOYFRIEND

 **slopworkglam** oh the drama how much I thee adore

 **fashionqueen32** I always knew nikiforov and katsuki's photos were just a stunt. nikiforov has been fading for a while now and this is his attempt at getting back some audience. pathetic.

 **glamdaddy** HOW DARE YOU **@fashionqueen32**

 **mustbeluxe** **@fashionqueen32** victor nikiforov is a legned in the fashion industry. he's the man who snaps his fingers and sets the entire fashion scene for the new season. he's the most–

 

 

Victor stops reading at that. It's more than enough to give him a glimpse into what people have taken from his innocent picture. He has never been a person who puts much value in the meaningless comments of online haters, but never before have they been so on point. It stings quite a bit, truly, to have people notice what Victor has been feeling for some time now. Though, it stings even more to have them miss it altogether or put it between the lines like they have just now in favour of drama and scandal-mongering.

Victor locks his phone and drops it on the table with a deep sigh. He doesn't know what he wants. He's unhappy when no one sees his designs for the desperate attempts they are, but he's also unhappy when they do. He's unhappy with all of it. Even the dress he's been working on this whole day–

He looks at it, bright and bold, and–

No, not _this_ dress. _This_ one is good. _This_ one he's happy with.

Yet it's no thanks to anything he's done. He's happy with it because there is a happy memory attached to it – a fond, warm presence of Yuuri's kisses, and gentle hands putting tea in his own.

Victor believes that Yuuri is his muse, that he'll bring about inspiration and direction, and while he maybe already did that, too, as Victor looks at this dress which looks completely the same as the damaged one, he realizes that Yuuri is also much more than just a subject of Victor's creativity.

He's Victor's–

"The bathroom is free."

Yuuri's voice snaps Victor out of his thoughts all of a sudden and he twitches in the armchair he has somehow managed to merge with in Yuuri's absence.

"Are you okay?"

Yuuri looks at Victor with kind eyes, so lovely, so understanding. He's definitely much more than just a muse. It would be a great disservice, a crime even, to attribute so little of Victor's happiness to him.

Victor gives a smile that feels a little bit strained.

"Just tired," he lies, but does he really? "There's still more to be done tomorrow."

"We can do it," Yuuri says. He rests his hand on Victor's in a warm gesture of support. " _You_ can do it, Victor. I believe in you."

The words hang between them, while Victor struggles to breathe through his suddenly clenched throat. He doesn't know what to say to that, because, really, what does one say to a confession that deep? That important? That overwhelming?

He clears his throat and stands up. "I should take a shower, too."

"Ah, yes, of course."

Yuuri steps back, giving Victor his space, but it's not really the space Victor wanted. It doesn't help any that Yuuri's face remains soft and understanding when Victor gathers his things and makes his way to the bathroom. Behind the closed doors, he hopes, he wonders if Yuuri will already be asleep when he gets out, and he doesn't know which he wants more: for him to be awake or not.

With his heart unsettled, Victor takes a quick shower and breezes through his skincare routine, only to hesitate the moment his hand rests on the door knob.

He and Yuuri have been getting close on this trip, very close, and while before they only talked through texts and the rare phone calls, now it feels so much more... real. Raw. Victor can't really put it into words, but it's different, and he isn't entirely sure how to be honest with himself and with Yuuri at the same time. It feels like texting is so much easier than looking into Yuuri's warm eyes and accepting his kindness.

The idea that strikes him then is silly, but maybe... maybe silly is exactly what he needs.

Victor leaves the bathroom, ready to implement his plan. Yuuri is still awake, so it takes no time at all for Victor to grab his phone and text Yuuri – if it's too hard to talk face to face, then maybe this will be better.

Yuuri's phone goes off a second after Victor hits send.

 

 

 

_Can we talk for a moment?_

 

 

"Victor?" Yuuri asks, looking at him once he sees the text. "Why are you–"

Victor sends another text and watches Yuuri frown when his phone pings again.

 

 

_Through texts?_

 

 

"Okay," Yuuri agrees. "Okay."

He sends just that to Victor, who sits down on the other bed and begins typing again. The room becomes quiet except for the little tapping of Victor's fingers on the screen of his phone, and then it's Yuuri's tapping, and the little pings of their messages going back and forth.

 

 

_I never let hateful comments get to me_ , Victor starts, _because it's pointless to worry about what some people you don't even know say about you online, but recently I feel like they might be right._

_It's not exactly that I take what they say seriously, but they pointed out some stuff that I have been feeling about m_

_*my work, damn phone_

_anyway, it just... hit too close to home, I guess._

 

 

He sees Yuuri's typing cloud and pauses.

 

 

 

 _I know that feeling too well_ , Yuuri sends.

_I'm not really good with social media or my fans. PR usually handles that stuff for me ever since I had a meltdown about one of my looks._

_You probably know the one. The Chicken Suit._

_I remember that, yes. Was it bad?_

_Define bad._

 

 

It's then that Victor knows. _What happened?_

 

 

 

_I locked myself in my room. Didn't eat for days. Passed out the moment I went out and scared the living daylight out of Phichit who found me._

_He thought I was on drugs, because I was so out of it._

_The doctor said I was probably delirious from dehydration._

_Suffice to say, my social media intake was largely limited and it's been only a year or two maybe that I even wanted to get back online._

 

 

Somehow, against a story like that, Victor feels like his own worries are far too superfluous to spend any time worrying. He still types it all out.

 

 

 

_Someone pointed out today that I'm fading as a designer and they are right._

 

 

He sees Yuuri typing at that, quickly, angrily, and he adds:

 

 

_I know they're right, I feel it too._

_I showed you my sketchbook, didn't I? It's all old._

_I'm lacking inspiration, drive. I thought... When I met you, Yuuri, I thought that you were my saviour._

 

 

Yuuri stops typing at that and Victor smiles to himself a little. He doesn't look up from his phone, but keeps on typing.

 

 

 

_You are, I think. You made me see that I don't have to be what I am now._

_I don't have to be a designer – Victor Nikiforov – to be happy. Fashion isn't all about design. It's not all about the spotlight._

_You, who hide behind the masks, have shown me that I can be whoever I want to be and still love fashion with my whole soul._

 

 

His thumbs tremble when he writes the last lines.

 

 

_I think I'd like to move on, after this. After our collection, after the final show. Would you still want to be in a relationship with me then?_

 

 

When I'm no longer great, no longer a trendsetter... when I'm no one, he thinks, but he doesn't write it. He presses send with far more pressure than is needed and waits, heart in his throat.

 

 

 

 _I will miss your designs,_ Yuuri writes back. _I will miss your style. I know I will._

_I've been a fan of yours for many years now, Victor, but I am also a designer. I know what it means to lose passion. I understand._

 

 

He stops for a moment and Victor bites his lip to keep it from trembling.

A deep fear settles in his bones, wraps around his heart and shakes him, because Yuuri has yet to answer the final question, the most important one. If he doesn't want to invest his time, his love in Victor who is just that – just Victor – then their entire relationship would've been a lie. If Yuuri says no, then Victor would be left with nothing except his most impossible dreams...

 

 

_And I just want you, Victor. Not the VN head designer, not the great Victor Nikiforov – just you._

 

 

The sound that rips itself out of Victor's mouth when he reads these words is muffled in the hand that he presses to his mouth. He doesn't even notice the tears that well in his eyes until a hand rests gently on his knee and he looks up to see the blurry shape of Yuuri before him. And when he blinks to clear his vision, the tears roll down his face, fat and full of his locked up feelings – now reigning free.

"Yuuri," he chokes. "I–"

"Can I?" Yuuri asks, arms open as if he wanted to gather Victor into a hug, and Victor nods before he even considers it. "It's okay, Victor, it's okay. You can cry."

And he does.

While Yuuri holds him, still on his knees before the bed. While Yuuri pulls him onto the bed and cradles him against his chest. While Yuuri strokes his hair and kisses his head, and repeats his words over and over again.

"It's okay," Yuuri tells him. "I'm not leaving you. It's okay."

Yuuri doesn't kiss Victor's tears away, doesn't brush them off, doesn't promise him forever. He simply holds Victor close and lets him sniffle and choke, and is still there when Victor's breathing finally returns back to normal after most of his shock and pain fade away.

That's all he needed to do, it seems, because Victor's heart feels lighter than it has in a long while.

"Thank you," Victor finally rasps once the worst is done.

"No," Yuuri says then. "Thank _you_. For all the years you have given this industry, for all the young minds and hearts you inspired. Thank you for your hard work, Victor. You can rest now."

That night, when Victor closes his eyes to sleep, tucked safely in Yuuri's arms, he knows that he made the right choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They finish the dress on time. It's the exact replica of the damaged one and Victor is quite proud of it, too. Completed in two days, it looks possibly even better than the last one, but that is mainly thanks to Yuuri's touch.

He's a miracle worker, his Yuuri. After that night when Victor broke down from a few words from the right person spoken at the right time, Victor began to notice more about Yuuri – how his talent isn't based on the garments entirely, but also on the soft touches he adds to them. Victor says soft, because they aren't always the focal point of the look, but on their own, they are definitely the furthest from that.

Sometimes it's an elaborate mask that does it, sometimes a bag in a strange shape, other times it's an oddly made hat or a hairstyle that no reputable woman would ever leave the house with on a week day. This style, or the extravagance of it, makes all of Yuuri's looks fresh. Unpredictable. Surprising.

It's the thing Victor has been lacking in for so long. It's the thing he has been admiring in Yuuri even before they met.

It's the thing that makes Victor eye his own collection critically one last time and turn to Yuuri to ask:

"What do you think?"

The models are getting their hair and makeup done and there is still an hour left till the show itself, but Victor is already buzzing in place with part excitement, part stress, and Yuuri's presence is the only thing that keeps him from running around the place – like a headless chicken, Yakov would say – fixing and changing things at the last minute.

"It looks solid," Yuuri says. "A good collection. Very cohesive. I can see a clear story here and, to be honest, I would wear like half of it, if I was a girl."

"Only a half? That's not too good then."

Yuuri gives a small laugh. "Only a half because I don't have the legs for the other half. My thighs are too thick, I'd look terrible in all these short dresses."

With that Victor would argue even more, but he's called away by his assistant. There are people filling the set and Victor has many guests to greet and photos to take until the show finally can kick off. Before he goes to fulfil his duties, however, he gives Yuuri a meaningful look and a smile that says more about his intentions than anything else.

"We will have to get back to this conversation once we're back in our room. I'd like to get a good measure on those thighs of yours." And when Yuuri's cheeks turn pink, Victor winks. "For fashion purposes, of course. I did promise you a gown, remember? I have to take those measurements at some point."

A flustered Yuuri is a sight as beautiful as it was that first day they have seen each other at the VN's casting. The only difference is that when Victor steps up close to him now and presses his lips against Yuuri's pink cheek, Yuuri doesn't shy away from him. He blushes harder, yes, but his eyes gleam warmly in the backstage lights as he lifts his chin a little higher to look Victor in the eye.

"And if I remember right, I promised you a suit," Yuuri tells Victor, a subtle challenge in his voice.

"I can't wait to give myself over to your talented hands," Victor replies with a smile and kisses both of Yuuri's hands next.

It's a lovely thing, the way Yuuri's eyelashes flutter shut when he becomes too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Victor could stare at this for ages, but his assistant is waiting, so instead of sweeping Yuuri off to some isolated corner and ravishing him with sweet kisses like he so wants to, Victor pulls away with a mournful sigh.

"I have to go. Can you keep an eye on things for me? I know Chris will have everything handled, but just to be on the safe side if they need immediate advice."

"Of course," Yuuri promises and squeezes Victor's hands one last time before he lets go. "Have fun."

"There is no fun to be had if you're not by my side," Victor sniffs pitifully.

It's all worth it for the little grin it puts on Yuuri's face.

"Just go," he says, and Victor sighs again before he finally leaves.

The moment he's out there, the camera flashes start up a storm. Blinded by them, Victor doesn't even realize the passage of time as he greets all the crème de la crème of the fashion world, who have came to see and judge the show.

There is the press and all the important magazine runners, headed by Lilia Baranovskaya, who takes one look at Victor and arches her eyebrow not entirely disapprovingly, which is a win in Victor's book. There are some other designers who show this week as well, like the Crispino twins who have just taken over the reins at Dolce & Gabbana and the illustrious Min-so Park, whose ideas revolutionised Victor's opinion on Gucci enough to make him buy about a half of their spring collection after her runway show earlier this year. 

There are, of course, others – celebrities, socialites, people whose pockets are lined with money. Victor smiles pleasantly at everyone, waves, poses for pictures and "hopes they will enjoy the show" until his face feels like it's going to fall off, his eyes water and itch, and his voice is all but a rasp. He still powers through it, does his job, because this is a part of it as much as design and creation are, and he reminds himself that this is the last time.

This is the end.

Only the collection he will create with Yuuri will require another show, but that will be smaller and he will have Yuuri by his side so it'll be better for sure. _For sure._

When it's finally time to slink backstage again, Victor is almost relieved.

There was a time in his life when he lived for this pre-runway performance, when he loved mingling and charming people into eating from the palm of his hand. Now, however, he is just tired. He is drained and running on pure strength of will, fighting against the current of dread that threatens to pull him down into the abyss.

And it seems like his abyss is far closer than it seems, when Victor steps backstage ten minutes before the show is set to start and finds his final dress torn at the seam on the very back where the large tail trails after it.

"The model caught her heel in the tail and slipped," Chris explains as he catches Victor up and leads him to where the dress has been hanged for the moment until they decide what to do with it. "Yuuri offered to fix it, but I don't think any stitching could save it at this point. It's a big rip and the tail hangs only by a few threads."

Victor runs a hand through his hair. This is _okay_. This is _fine_.

"How is the model?" Victor asks. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. We sent her to Georgi after she was done crying. She promised she'll be ready to walk, but..."

Victor makes a noncommittal sound. Ready to walk? In what? If they don't fix the dress there will be nothing for her to walk in and the entire show can fall apart.

Splendid.

Except it is – _splendid_. Because when Victor's eyes fall onto the dress, he doesn't see a disaster he expected. He sees Yuuri first, with pins in his mouth and busy hands and focused eyes, and he sees the tail of the dress which was ripped, but now... isn't?

Or, it's still ripped, but Yuuri has managed to pin the abundance of the material up. He's shaped it and draped it and structured it in what seems to be minutes, and now the back of the dress is above the knees, much like the front. A flower shaped from all that excess fabric looks back at him, a beautiful thing, but...

Victor walks around the dress.

Yuuri has thought of the symmetry as well, it seems. Where the sides of the skirt hang down to the ankles the dress takes on a triangular arch that on one hand covers the leg, but in the back, where the flower is, teases with a cheeky sneak-peek.

It's a beautiful design. Strong. Original. Victor would never have thought of it himself.

He doesn't say the word while Yuuri pins in the last pieces that need strengthening, but once Yuuri is done and steps away from his work, Victor can no longer help himself.

Yuuri notices him only when Victor steps right up to him, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Victor stops him from that by kissing him right then and there – for everyone to see, because he doesn't care what they think or who they tell. Yuuri deserves a thousand kisses for everything he is. And what he is, is _brilliant_.

It doesn't help to calm Victor's heartbeat when Yuuri moans in surprise into the kiss and melts against Victor's touch like he always does.

"You aren't mad then?" Yuuri asks once they part for a breath. "About me fixing the dress?"

"Mad?" Victor laughs, incredulous. "Yuuri, how on earth could I ever be mad about you saving me over and over again? I want to _marry you_."

It's only when Yuuri's eyes widen that Victor realizes it might not have been the smartest thing to say.

"I mean," he quickly adds, blushing. "Not now, obviously. After we date a little longer, and maybe get a place together, and maybe another dog so Makkachin and Vicchan would have someone to play with, but–"

"I'd love to get a dog with you, Victor," Yuuri says, flushed as much as Victor.

And, God help him, if it wasn't for Chris who clears his throat just then, Victor would have proposed again in that very second.

"I hate to break you two lovebirds apart, but the show is starting in five minutes and we need to get Aneshka into that dress, so would you mind finishing all this later?"

Yuuri jumps away so fast that he trips on a dress form leg and almost falls. At the last moment he catches himself on a clothes rack and, still flushed up to his ears, quickly mumbles: "I should probably go take my seat, so, um, good luck!"

Like that, he's gone. He grabs his mask from the side of the rack, covers up his blushing face and disappears out into the world where Victor can't follow.

Victor stares after him for a long moment, unable to get the heady warmth of Yuuri's gaze out of his head. Chris has to elbow him in the side to snap him out of it, but at least the little pain helps to ground Victor back in reality.

There will be time for this later. Lots and lots of time that Victor will use up to its fullest.

For now, though, Victor has a show to run.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [balmain fall 2018 mixed silk pleated mini](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#63) which is the dress victor initially settles on to replace the multi pleated  
> [balmain fall 2018 multicoloured pleated mini](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/balmain/slideshow/collection#54) which is the dress victor ends up remaking with yuuri
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the very victuuri spontaneous proposal ahahah more fun things will come in next chapter, stay tuned!! <3


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 

 

It's not exactly strange that the day after a VN show all the Internet is filled with pictures of Victor and his new creations. What _is_ strange – or no, not really, at least not to Victor – is that after this show only some of the pictures are of that nature.

Others?

They're of Yuuri, sitting in the first row at Victor's show, with a stunning autumn themed mask over his face. They're of Yuuri and Victor, standing side by side and smiling at each other as if the entire world has ceased to exist. They're of them both, tucked away, and talking to each other intimately in the backgrounds of countless other pictures where they shouldn't be the focus, yet somehow are...

The articles that spin from them are endless.

 

 

**_Yuuri Katsuki Victor Nikiforov's muse?!_ **

****

 

**_Katsuki makes an appearance at the VN fall 2018 runaway show to support his boyfriend's new collection_ **

****

 

**_Nikiforov admits: "Yuuri Katsuki inspired me to reach for both life and love."_ **

****

 

**_Nikiforov and Katsuki – partnership on and off the runway?_ **

****

 

**_The Katsuki-Nikiforov affair: is it real, or just a stunt of a desperate man?_ **

 

 

Victor reads them all.

It's difficult to agree or disagree with what they all speculate about without making an official statement, which Victor refuses to do for the time being. He feels a little selfish of Yuuri's time and attention. If the media got their confirmation, Victor knows that there would be no end to the interviews and image-related drama. For now he just wants to have Yuuri to himself. For just a little longer. It's selfish of him, yes, but... can't a man be selfish about his love just a little bit?

But the pictures... the pictures are the only thing he cannot help admiring. He saves a good few to his phone, because he cannot possibly resist the beautiful man in them.

His boyfriend.

The words still feel surreal whenever Victor says them out loud, and even more when he just thinks them to himself like this, but it's real. Victor can't stop grinning whenever he remembers it, and, well... He would be lying if he said that a part of him isn't happy that the entire world knows now.

It's true that this entire matter has brought more spotlight onto their relationship, and what comes with it – their collaboration. A good thing for sure, yes, but in the process even more attention was directed towards Yuuri himself.

It is a secret to no one in the industry that Yuuri Katsuki of Yuugen doesn't necessarily love being put on the spot like that. Victor feels especially bad about it, since he's only just learned of Yuuri's past history with the social media, but, thankfully, Yuuri wasn't too upset about it when Victor brought it up with him.

He simply shook his head lightly, smiling a little smile.

"It's fine," he said, squeezing Victor's waist as they posed together for another picture right after the show. "I don't really mind. You were just being yourself, no? That's all I asked you to do, so I have no complaints here."

His kind eyes, which peered at him from beneath the autumn themed mask that only brought out the beautiful hue of his irises, were all that Victor could think of as they returned back to their hotel room.

And they were also what Victor dreamed about that very night, until he woke up hot and needy to find Yuuri innocently sleeping right next to him.

Victor had spend far longer than just a second watching him sleep, so sweet, so warm, so beautiful, and then, before his thoughts could run onto unchartered waters, he grabbed his phone to occupy himself in a different manner. But much like all roads lead to Rome, all of Victor's thoughts lead back to Yuuri, so after he's browsed through a dozen of those articles and saved at least that many pictures of the two of them, he has turned to look at Yuuri who keeps snoring lightly at his side.

He's precious, Victor knows. He's someone he wants to keep as close as he can. Someone he wants to stay at his side.

The memory of his silly proposal returns to Victor in a vivid blush of embarrassment. No wonder Yuuri ran away from him like that. It's true that he was overcome with emotion in that moment, but wow, that was quite embarrassing for them both, Victor thinks.

He rolls over and hides his half of his face in the pillow, while he peers at Yuuri with one eye.

Yuuri's face is soft in his sleep, his mouth slightly parted on little cute breaths. He isn't drooling, but even if he was, Victor would've thought he is the cutest person in the entire world. Well, maybe runner up – Makkachin is the indisputable cutest. And the certainty Victor has that Yuuri would agree with him, makes his heart thump sweetly in his chest.

Victor sighs, happy and content.

He believed his life would be more or less dull once he made a decision to leave designing behind, but somehow, as he rests in this comfortable bed, all warm and content, he can't really find the dullness he has been expecting. The future looks bright. It doesn't have the foreboding sense of Victor's world falling apart into ruin, no. It simply looks... easy.

Maybe it's just the sleep talking, or maybe Victor doesn't realize the problems he'll have to face yet, but he has made his choice, and with that he seems to have shrugged off a huge burden – so now there is only lightness and feathers, and the little breath from Yuuri's lips that fans the side of his face in a tender caress...

With a silly grin, unable to hold back, Victor shifts a little and presses a kiss to Yuuri's soft cheek. It isn't enough to wake Yuuri up, but once Victor does it once, he can't help himself from doing it again. And so, he ends up peppering Yuuri's face with tiny kisses until Yuuri begins to giggle at the ticklish feeling that Victor feels in his chest too.

"Good morning," Victor croons, kissing Yuuri's brow. He pulls back a bit to smile at Yuuri, who rubs his eyes with a hand and smiles back – just as happy. "Are you excited for today?"

"Today? What's happening today?"

Yuuri yawns at the end of his question. Victor's cheeks hurt from how hard he is grinning, but Yuuri is just _too cute_. He can't control it.

"It's finally time to fulfil that promise we made! A date!" Victor reminds him. "We don't have to fly out until at least Saturday, so now we have all the time in the world to get lost in Paris together."

Yuuri hums at that, snuggling more into his pillow. His eyes are still on Victor though, and the half of his face that Victor can see is still smiling.

"Where do you want to go first?" Yuuri asks.

"Have you gone sightseeing in Paris before, Yuuri?" Victor asks back.

"I've been to Versailles. We had a shoot there once, but other than that? No. Every time I'm in Paris I'm just too busy to see anything other than what I catch through the window of the car or my hotel room."

"Then it's about time I showed you around."

Victor smile widens even more when he leans for a kiss and Yuuri not only turns his head up, but brings a hand to the back of Victor's neck to keep him there for longer. Yuuri's mouth tastes awful and Victor is sure his own does, too, but he pushes the thought out of his mind, because this is what he wants to be doing – kissing Yuuri until they are both breathless – and it's exactly what he does.

Yuuri's cheeks are flushed when they part. His eyes shine with an inner light that is warm, and beautiful, and gold. Not for the first time Victor is struck by how pretty Yuuri is like this, but unlike those other times, he speaks his sentiments out loud.

"You're so beautiful, Yuuri," Victor whispers, worshipful and smitten. "I can't believe my eyes sometimes, because it truly feels like an angel has blessed me with his presence."

The flush on Yuuri's face darkens and Yuuri makes a small embarrassed noise when Victor kisses both his cheeks then. And then the tip of his nose, just for good measure. It wouldn't do if Yuuri thought he wasn't sincere in his adoration.

"Like you're the one to talk," Yuuri replies. "You could start a modelling career right this instance and brands would fight teeth and nail to have you. Hell, _I_ would fight to have you."

"But you do have me," Victor chimes in with a smile. "You have me like no one else."

Yuuri's smile is a slow, awed thing as it stretches his pretty pink lips and gleams in his brown, light-filled eyes, but Victor is too mesmerized to even blink.

"I do, don't I?"

A thumb of the hand that Yuuri continues to keep at the side of Victor's neck like a guide rubs at the stubbly line of Victor's jaw. It's a tender gesture, adoring and warm, and it breathes a lovable ache into Victor's heart.

That same ache is still there when they finally get out of bed, when they dress and get breakfast in the small patisserie two blocks from their hotel. It's as sweet as the _chou à la crème_ that Victor stuffs his face with, and possibly as delightful as the _mille-feuille_ , which Yuuri feeds to him with his own fork, blushing adorably all the while.

The air of late July is poignant in Paris, but Victor doesn't really feel anything other than the warmth of the sun, the squeeze of Yuuri's hand, and the scent of the flowers he grabs from a stand in the city centre to present to Yuuri who lights up in pinks and reds and beautiful, beautiful smiles to match the pink carnations and the joyful daisies of the bouquet.

It feels surreal, slightly, when Victor looks to the side and sees Yuuri there with him. He's been in relationships before, yes, and he's taken a few secret getaways with lovers, too, but this is different. This isn't a getaway and it isn't work. It isn't even a date, really. It honestly feels a little bit like living, Victor thinks to himself as they walk through the Tuileries Garden on their way to the Louvre. Everything is bright and vivid and warm, and Victor forgets that he is the head designer of a fashion company that is worth more zeroes than he bothers to remember, and he forgets that Yuuri is a designer of a rival brand, and he forgets that there is a world outside of here and now, because the world that is out there doesn't feel _like this_. 

There is no clumsy escapism in what he feels, that's not it. It's only that for the first time there is no reality weighing down on him like a guillotine – because there is no other reality apart from this one, where he is happy and smiling, and pulling Yuuri to him in the middle of a street and resting a kiss on the tip of his nose simply because he wants to. And because he can.

The freedom of it is divine, and Victor basks in it like a sunflower does in the sun. It can seem silly to anyone else, _should_ be silly, honestly, but it isn't. Only because Yuuri looks just as happy as Victor himself whenever their eyes meet, and it's the highest blessing of all. 

Before either of them knows it, the sky begins to grow dark, so they ride through the city in one of those charming horse-drawn carriages towards the biggest attraction yet – the Eiffel Tower. Victor's feet throb from all the walking, but his heart throbs more pressingly every time Yuuri smiles at him. Those smiles are heady like a good wine and Victor feels drunk on them more than he thinks should be possible.

It doesn't help his romantic soul any that when they dine in the restaurant on the second floor of the tower, the view is stunning – of both the city and Yuuri himself – and the wine is sweet and flowing freely.

The sky outside is already dark when they finally decide to challenge the summit. Hand in hand they take the elevator and make it to the very top, where the air only adds to the flush of Victor's cheeks and the sweetness of Yuuri's laughter.

"It's so beautiful up here," Yuuri says as he stares into the distance.

The city looks like a hive of fireflies from up here, filled with light and sparkle.

Just like Yuuri's eyes, Victor thinks to himself.

It's Yuuri whom he watches more than the scenery, because all of it, the wonder, the beauty, it's reflected in Yuuri with even more of its glamour, and it's that sight that Victor finds the most beautiful. He can't ever look away.

Before he thinks of it, Victor takes a picture of Yuuri's awed face to keep the memory of this moment with him forever. Yuuri hears the click of the shutter, though, and tilts his head towards him with a tiny frown between his eyebrows to which Victor can only offer a sheepish smile.

"Sorry... I know you probably have enough of everyone taking photos of you, but you looked really cute right then. I couldn't help myself. But I promise this one is just for me! No one else will see it."

It may be a play of the light or Victor's own imagination, but he thinks he sees Yuuri's lips quirk up for a second there. If it was a smile, it's gone as fast as it appeared, and Yuuri pulls out his phone.

"Fine," he says. "Then we have to take one together on my phone, so I have a picture of you just for me, too."

There is nothing easier for Victor to do than say "Okay," and wrap his arms around Yuuri from behind while Yuuri sets up his camera. Victor rests his chin on Yuuri's shoulder and kisses the side of Yuuri's neck before Yuuri holds up his arm to take them both into the frame.

"Ready?"

"For you? Always," Victor answers with a cheeky smile that gets captured on the photo perfectly. "Are you going to make it your phone background?"

Yuuri hums. "I don't know. Do you think we're cuter than Vicchan?"

"That's a tough one," Victor agrees. "I guess we need to take a picture with him one day, too. Then there wouldn't be an issue, no?"

"Oh!" Yuuri suddenly raises his voice and twists around in Victor's arms, eyes bright, sparkling, intent. "I know! You should come to Japan!"

Victor blinks for a moment, confused, but before he can ask what brought this one, Yuuri barrels through in his star-eyed excitement:

"My parents own an onsen– it's something like an inn with hot springs and catering, but anyway– You should come! After we're done with our collection and everything, you should come and meet Vicchan! That would be–"

Yuuri seems to catch himself right by the end of his rant. He blushes, a sudden shy, embarrassed pink as uncertain as the hesitation that colours his voice next.

"That would be, um, that'd be nice...? Don't you think?"

Smitten, touched, and overwhelmed with the sudden wave of affection that hits him, Victor smiles softly. "That would be lovely, Yuuri. I'd be honoured."

And in Yuuri's smile he sees all the same things that sit in his heart, the happiness, the joy, the rightness of it all, which is exactly why Victor dips his head down and kisses Yuuri for who knows which time that day.

Yuuri kisses him back as if it's as easy as breathing at this point, and Victor can attest to that. It feels like his lips know the shape of Yuuri's like lock and key, like they were made to match.

But they weren't – they weren't and that is what's so brilliant about it, because Victor knows there is no such thing as soulmates, it's just romantic nonsense, a fantasy that never really matters where real life is concerned; but because there is no such thing, finding it in the mundane ways of a relationship that is based on trust, love and admiration, like Victor believes they have, is all the more special for it.

They stay at the summit for a while longer, hands resting together on the railing. The city at night is still bustling with life, even as they come back down to the ground. Slowly, they walk back to their hotel as if nothing in the world was more important than this time they spend together.

And it isn't, Victor thinks. It isn't, he knows, and he is so glad to see that Yuuri thinks so either.

The air remains as sweet as it was during the day, but it also has the slight crispness of the night in it, a spritz of something that has Victor's blood running faster. Or maybe that's just the wine that makes him consider doing silly things... Like jumping on that fountain edge and shouting his happiness for all the world to hear.

He doesn't, of course, but the thought makes him smile and hide that smile in Yuuri's hair. It gets him a kiss for his trouble, which is just as good, if not better.

Honestly, Victor feels like singing.

His feet ache, his back too. His chest is so full, and his head is woozy with wine and delirious happiness. He simply feels like he's going to burst – like he should be tired, but isn't, because love is real and he might be in it. As in, in love. With Yuuri.

Which is kind of obvious and expected at this point, but the realization of it is what makes Victor's heart swell like a sponge, which has only been waiting to be watered.

In the elevator up to their hotel room, Victor wonders if maybe he's overthinking things. Yet, all it takes is one look at Yuuri, who stands opposite of him and watches Victor with the same kind of soft longing in his eyes, to reassure him that he isn't.

It's mutual, what is between them. And maybe it's not exactly _the same_ , but it is of the same nature. And that nature is–

"Do you want to take the shower first or should I?" Yuuri asks, looking at Victor over his shoulder when they get into their room.

But all Victor hears in his head is "Do you want to take the first step?" and he does. _He does._

He gently turns Yuuri around and, there, he kisses him like he has never kissed anyone: with his heart out in the open and desires laid bare. It's a thrill unlike no other when Yuuri answers him with the same, and Victor shivers in his own skin. It feels like too much and not enough all at once, so Victor kisses Yuuri again, and again, and again, because he doesn't know what to do.

Should he push Yuuri back onto the bed? Should he ask first? Should he just grab Yuuri's ass to show his intent? Somehow, despite all his experience, Victor can't really tell what the right action to take is, so when Yuuri breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Victor's, he lets him.

They look each other in the eye, silent and waiting.

"So," Yuuri finally says, a blush on his cheeks that is as precious as the light in his eyes.

"Sorry," Victor answers, blushing as well. "I don't really know what to do."

"Have you never...?"

Yuuri's voice is gentle, soft, and it makes Victor blush even further, even if he can't find a reason for it.

"No, no, I have," he reassures. "I just don't know what you want to do? What you're comfortable with? What you like?" Victor takes a breath and looks right into Yuuri's eyes before he admits: "I don't want to ruin this."

"Sometimes, when you say things like that, I feel like I hear myself."

Yuuri's lips quirk a little. He brings a hand up to Victor's face, cups his cheek, holds it like it's the most precious thing. Victor can do nothing else, but melt into that touch.

"I'm so afraid of ruining this, too, you know," Yuuri says. "Today has been... magical. I never believed just a single day spent with someone could feel this good. I've always settled for my little bubble, been comfortable with myself and only myself, but you, Victor, you made me want to explore the world. Open up to new possibilities. I– I can't imagine going back to a me who isn't close to you."

Inching up on his toes, Yuuri brushes his nose against Victor's. Tender, sweet, his eyelashes flutter in a way that Victor feels on his own, and when Yuuri presses his lips lightly against Victor's, Victor's eyes are already half-closed in undeniable bliss.

"You can't ruin this," Yuuri whispers to him. "At least not on your own. And if we agree, then maybe one of us could always be responsible for making sure it doesn't happen?"

"That sounds wonderful, but what if we both ruin things at once?" Victor breathes.

His hands settle around Yuuri, spread over his arched back, press into him with desperate need.

"Then we fix it together," Yuuri answers. "Deal?"

"Deal," Victor agrees, and then seals it with a kiss.

It isn't a soft one, this time. Victor smacks his lips onto Yuuri's so hard that Yuuri gives a small moan, but before Victor can ask if he's okay or spill all his apologies, Yuuri's hand lifts up to tug on Victor's hair and the thought is completely gone from his mind within seconds.

It doesn't take them long to land on one of the beds. Yuuri tugs on Victor's shirt and Victor steps too close to him, too fast, kisses him too deeply – and then they're falling.

Hair splayed over the sheets, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed, looking up at Victor, Yuuri is _stunning_. Victor can't help but admire the view before him and Yuuri takes notice of his silence.

"What?" he asks.

"You're beautiful," Victor simply says, to which Yuuri's eyes close and his face turns away in a shy, delightful show of embarrassment. "You are. So beautiful. I've never seen anyone more alluring than you, Yuuri."

"You must not look into a mirror often enough then," Yuuri replies, a quirk to his lips. "Because you are far more beautiful than anyone could ever hope to be, Victor."

Victor kisses that little smile, and kisses Yuuri again. The trail of Yuuri's hot tongue makes Victor's whole world spin. He gives himself over to this mad carousel, to the ups and downs and the tugs and strokes, and it is a divine feeling of freedom, desire, passion. They burn under Victor's skin, ready to be unleashed. And when Yuuri's hands yank out the shirt from where it used to be neatly tucked into Victor's pants, that force is given the reins over the rest of his body and soul, and plunges him into the depths of it.

To feel the delightful shiver of Yuuri's whole body as he smoothes his lips against the side of his neck, to hear him moan breathlessly when Victor's tongue caresses the shell of his ear, to steal the gasp from his lips while sneaking adventurous hands underneath the hem of the tshirt, right over Yuuri's sweet, soft belly – Victor doesn't know anything better than this.

He doesn't need to know, either. He doesn't want to.

He pulls himself off of Yuuri's lips and pushes the tshirt up and up, until he can kiss the trail from Yuuri's sternum to his navel. The bare skin is warm, tender, unlike Yuuri's hands which are covered in calluses that now rub into Victor's back. Victor shivers at the roughness of it, arches his spine when Yuuri's fingers dip into it, a light pressure against his lower back.

"Hey," Yuuri whispers suddenly, a nervous timbre to his voice. "Can... can I try, can I try something?

On his haunches, Victor is still taller than Yuuri, but Yuuri doesn't seem to mind it when he reaches for the buttons of Victor's shirt with slightly trembling hands. He undoes them one by one, punctuating each with a kiss to the newly revealed patch of skin. He doesn't look into Victor's eyes even once, but even though he's shy, the little kisses and his hot breath bring a flush to Victor's pale skin, and a deeper one to his cheeks.

By the end of this sweet torture, Yuuri simply runs his fingers down Victor's abdomen, feathery-light, teasing, but not so by intention. Victor shivers in pleasure when Yuuri runs his hand back up as if in full admiration of Victor's chest. It makes all the hours spent in the gym in his free time worth it.

The pride is one thing, yet Victor still blushes at the attention, because Yuuri's eyes seem to grow with even more hunger every time his fingers trail over the hard muscles. As if touching him gives him courage, Victor sees the subtle change: the loosened shoulders, the parted lips, the touch that grows bolder with every swipe of Yuuri's hands. And when on a whim Victor flexes them, Yuuri's eyes flick up to his with such speed that Victor nearly topples backwards when Yuuri lurches up to kiss again.

He moans into the kiss and Yuuri moans too, sucking on Victor's tongue. He pulls him back down on top of him and this time Victor allows himself to rest his full weight on Yuuri's body, which Yuuri accepts with welcoming arms that wrap around Victor and cling to him almost as badly as Victor's lips cling to Yuuri's.

"Wait, wait," Victor says between the heated kisses.

He can feel the hardness of Yuuri's cock underneath their jeans, and he knows his own is just as bad if not worse, but he just needs to–

"How... how far do you want this to go?"

Yuuri is flushed and catching his breath when he says: "I haven't– I don't know. How far do you want to go?"

And Victor can't say anything different than what Yuuri has given him. He makes a sheepish face.

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Neither have I, but–" Yuuri bites his lip. "I want to do this with you. If you want to. Whatever you're comfortable with."

It's a strange feeling to receive so much consideration in return for his own efforts. Victor has never experienced it before. Yuuri is the first one to fully think of Victor as an equal part of the equation, as not a tool for his own pleasure, but also a human being with feelings and limits, and he gives Victor the freedom to put those limits wherever he pleases.

It's too touching to think of now, so Victor forces himself to swallow through his tightened throat.

"I want this too," he admits. "I want you. And I think... I think I want to have sex with you. Now."

Even Yuuri's ears are pink now from how hard he's blushing, but he answers Victor with a voice that is distinctly smaller than his previous reassurances.

"I've never..."

His eyes flit away from Victor's as if he's trying to combat his embarrassment and fails, but Victor understands. He understands, even if Yuuri doesn't finish it in words, because Victor can feel it in Yuuri's heartbeat, which flutters against Victor's palm where it rests on Yuuri's chest.

"If you aren't ready, I'll understand," Victor says softly. "It won't change anything between us, I promise."

But Yuuri shakes his head. He's brave, so brave, and lifts his eyes up to Victor's again before he says: "No, I... I want to do this, too. With you. I want you to be the one."

Flushed, yet determined, Yuuri pulls Victor into a kiss. And who is Victor to deny them both what they want?

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [elven design halloween costume mask](https://www.elvendesignart.com/halloween-costume-mask.html) which is the one yuuri wears at victor's show  
> [world's most expensive dessert, billing at $35k](https://www.forbes.com/sites/anthonydemarco/2011/10/12/u-k-jeweler-bakes-a-34000-bejeweled-dessert/#362e9b1528a8) bc fashion isn't always about clothes
> 
> and now, following in that delicious dessert's footsteps, keep an eye out for it bc on yuuri's birthday we're going to go hard af and spice our lives with something even more delicious ;3c


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I barely made it! life unexpectedly kicked my ass so I'm posting late BUT yuuri's birthday is still valid as long as it's the 29th somewhere in the world so! please enjoy this little (not very little tbh lmao) spoiling session!

 

 

 

 

There is a double vice on Yuuri's lower abdomen.

One of them is the arousal that spills heat wave after wave through his body, but almost as if to counter it, the other has his nerves squeeze his gut with fear and uncertainty of the unknown. It's enough to confuse Yuuri's body and to confuse his mind, so he doesn't even know anymore if what he's feeling is pleasure or the beginnings of a panic attack.

Maybe it's both, he thinks when he hears his own harsh breathing in the silence that follows when Victor leaves him to bring lube, which _obviously_ they will need.

Yuuri never thought about having sex, because there was no need for it – no one he wanted to take that step with. Losing his virginity just for the sake of it never appealed to him in the least and so, even now at almost twenty-four, he isn't sure if this is what he really wants.

He's sure he likes Victor. Likes him a lot. But is that all it takes to do this...?

Everything feels awkward now, not smooth like in the movies. There is no sultry music and heated, obscure camera angles. None of that passion that makes parents cover their children's eyes. There's just Yuuri staring at the ceiling and Victor rummaging in his suitcase, and then there's Yuuri scooching back on the bed to make some space for Victor to sit.

And there's the staring – awkward, uncertain. Yuuri doesn't know if he should laugh or cry, because this isn't how he imagined his first time going. Not that he imagined it much, but the society did its number on him, and without really thinking of it he acquired some expectations which... now were laid before him null and void.

Victor must notice his odd expression, because he pauses in his crawling over Yuuri. His face is soft, open, when he asks: "Talk to me, Yuuri. Tell me what you want."

"I want to–" Yuuri stops and swallows, before he continues: "I want to do this with you. Because I really, really like you, Victor. But I'm nervous. And this isn't like anything I've seen in the movies, so I don't really know what to expect, I don't know what to do, and I'm... I guess I'm scared. A little bit."

Victor's lips twitch as if he's holding back a smile and Yuuri blushes.

"Okay, maybe more than a little bit," he admits.

"It's okay," Victor tells him gently. "It's okay to be scared. I'm nervous myself, because this is a huge responsibility, you know? If I fuck this up, it could potentially ruin sex for you for like forever."

"I didn't even think of that," Yuuri whispers, eyes wide.

He doesn't think Victor would be able to do that, but... what if...

"Hey," Victor calls and Yuuri snaps back to attention. "Don't think about it. I promise I'll do my best to make this enjoyable for both of us. And if it isn't, then you can tell me to stop at any time and it will still be valid, okay? I'll respect your decision no matter what, I promise."

He's right, Yuuri knows. It wouldn't do to let his mind spiral out of control now of all times. And... he wants to do this. It feels like it's the right time, and the right person. Yuuri feels, well, he feels like he can trust Victor with this and open up to him enough to be able to enjoy himself. Maybe. Possibly. It's– It's worth a shot.

So he pushes back those ugly doubts away and focuses on the shadowed blue of Victor's eyes. On the silver of his eyebrows. On the subtle light of the nightstand lamp that makes Victor's skin look far more golden than it truly is.

"I trust you," Yuuri finds himself saying.

The smile Victor gives him is a little surprised, but so warm that Yuuri melts into it without hesitation when Victor kisses him sweetly.

"Thank you," Victor says. "It's truly an honour."

And, in kisses like that one, Yuuri's rational mind is slowly drowned. He doesn't mind it. Victor is gentle with him, soft, and he kisses Yuuri for such a long time that Yuuri thinks he'll never stop. Not that he would've wanted him to. But when Victor does stop, it's not a problem either. He kisses Yuuri's skin with the same adoration as he did Yuuri's lips, moves past Yuuri's cheek with purpose and rests an equally as precious kiss under Yuuri's ear.

It makes Yuuri sigh. He doesn't even notice the moment he relaxes under the tender ministrations of Victor's lips, but when a delicious shudder wrecks through his lax body the moment Victor's lips move to the side of his neck, Yuuri knows that even if the movies lied to him, this is just as nice.

Maybe even nicer.

 _Oh_ , Yuuri thinks, gripping Victor's shoulders on pure impulse.

Victor's teeth graze his skin lightly, teasingly, and every time they do Yuuri's breath comes just a little bit faster.

 _Oh_ , Yuuri thinks when Victor's tongue joins his teeth and lips, and–

 _Oh_ , Yuuri thinks, _oh god_.

His fingers clutch onto the back of Victor's shirt when Victor bites down into the juncture of Yuuri's neck and shoulder.

This, Yuuri decides, is definitely nicer than the movies.

Victor makes his way down Yuuri's body, sucking and nipping and licking, and all Yuuri can do is breathe harshly and let him. The heat that crawls on Yuuri's skin is impatient, lustful, and he feels like he is burning from the inside out and only Victor's lips can save him from turning into dust.

 

 

 

 

But it seems like Victor's lips aren't enough for Victor himself, because his hands slide up Yuuri's stomach at some point, sending goosebumps across Yuuri's heated skin, makeing him shiver and want. Victor doesn't make him want for long – he gives him what he needs, even if Yuuri doesn't know what it is that he needs himself.

He flicks Yuuri's nipples lightly, twists them between his fingers until they're hard and stiff. Yuuri can only breathe harshly at the sensation that isn't entirely unknown to his body, but in this setting is unfamiliar and strange. So strange that when Victor bows down to swipe his tongue over one nub, Yuuri can't contain his giggle.

He slaps a hand over his mouth as fast as he can, but it's already done and Victor looks up at him with his beautiful, concerned eyes that make Yuuri blush harder than anything until now.

"Sorry," Yuuri says quickly. "It tickles."

The slow smile that comes to Victor's face isn't soft anymore. Victor looks Yuuri directly in the eye before he flicks his tongue out against Yuuri's nipple while still maintaining the contact.

And now, _oh_ , now it feels entirely different.

Yuuri gasps at the pleasure that suddenly shoots through his body. Victor's little smirk doesn't help at all when he closes his lips around the nub and sucks on it. It's still a little strange, but also warm and good, and Yuuri gives a small involuntary moan at how Victor's tongue rubs against him inside his warm, slick mouth.

Victor's free hand moves to the other side of Yuuri's chest. His fingers pinch the other nipple at the same time as Victor's teeth gently munch on the one he's still sucking on. Heat spills down Yuuri's stomach, low, and lower still, until it sets between his legs, harsh and throbbing.

It's impossible to hold back a whine of protest the moment Victor pulls off his chest with a sweet little pop. Yuuri feels disappointed, but not for long, since Victor doesn't stop in his ministrations.

"Say, Yuuri..." Victor kisses leisurely around Yuuri's nipple, nips at the small bud. "Can you tell me what you want? What you like? I want to please you."

He purrs those last words, breath cold against Yuuri's spit-wet skin.

"I–" Yuuri rasps, unable to form coherent thoughts. "I–"

"Do you like when I play with your nipples?" Victor asks. His fingers twist one of them lightly, which makes Yuuri gasp and arch off the sheets. "Or maybe you like when I suck on them? Take them in my mouth? Press my hot, wet tongue to them?"

Instead of doing it, Victor circles the nipple with the very tip of his tongue. He's teasing, and he's doing an awfully good job of it, because Yuuri feels like his patience is running thin and thinner still when Victor's hand settles on his hot stomach.

"Or maybe," Victor asks as he trails his fingertips over Yuuri's navel, down, down, down to the button of Yuuri's pants and lower still, "you want me to suck on something else? Something thicker and much more delicious? Hmm?"

Yuuri can't find any words to answer him. His mind is a mess and his tongue seems to be tied in his mouth, but a lustful moan still leaves him despite how embarrassing Victor's idea sounds. Maybe he's talking dirty for Yuuri's benefit, or maybe it's his thing, but to hear the words spoken out loud while Victor is going down on him is just–

"Let's get you out of these jeans first," Victor says and pops the button of Yuuri's jeans open.

The zipper slides down next before Yuuri can recover from how hard his heart begins to thump in his chest. Victor is already hooking his fingers under the waistband around Yuuri's hips to pull the jeans down, when Yuuri sits up fast and catches his hands.

"Wait!"

He's breathing harshly and he's flushed, he knows he must be. It's even worse that when he speaks, his voice comes out in a squeak.

Victor stops immediately, though, and looks up at him, concerned. "Did I do somethi–"

"No, no, you're–" Yuuri doesn't know if it's possible to blush harder than he is now, but he's sure his skin tries to accommodate it, "–you're fine! I just, um, should I... be doing something, too? I mean, you–"

"Oh! No, no, that's okay, Yuuri. Please. Just lay back and enjoy. Hopefully, we'll have lots of opportunities for you to, um," Victor blushes now, too, and somehow seeing him like this helps to calm Yuuri's fluttering heartbeat, "return the favour, so to speak. If you want to, that is."

"Okay," Yuuri agrees. "Okay. I'll, um, I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," Victor murmurs in a voice so soft that Yuuri almost misses it, but what he doesn't miss is the beautiful pink that spreads over Victor's entire face.

It's in that moment that he vows to get on his knees for this man one day. One day...

...but now, now Yuuri rests back against the pillows and lifts his hips for Victor to pluck the jeans off his legs.

They're the slim fit, so it's a little amusing to watch how hard Victor needs to pull to peel them off, but Yuuri's amusement is quickly replaced by heat when Victor settles back between his legs. He pushes them apart and up in one fluid move that takes Yuuri's breath away completely, and Yuuri can only gasp when Victor presses his lips against Yuuri's knee next. Victor's fingers bite into the plump flesh on his thighs with a strength that sends pangs of desire to Yuuri's already hard dick, and that desire is only multiplied the moment Victor bites into Yuuri's thigh hard enough to leave a mark.

"You're so soft, Yuuri," Victor mumbles, kissing and sucking the inside of Yuuri's legs. He squeezes Yuuri's leg to make his point. "So squishy."

"You mean I'm fat," Yuuri laughs humourlessly, but the glare Victor sends him from where he's placed himself between Yuuri's legs shuts him up.

"Hey, stop insulting my boyfriend. I will have you know that I adore his full thighs and soft, sweet belly."

Victor pinches Yuuri's stomach lightly. Among the blushing Yuuri's face is already doing, it splits into a more honest smile as well. It's a little embarrassing, but also... also pleasantly surprising to find that Victor doesn't hate the way Yuuri looks. In the industry they're both working in being less than perfect is unacceptable. So to be accepted in this way...

Yuuri still smacks Victor's hand away from his pudge when the prodding gets too much.

"You're such a dork," he complains, but there is nothing but flattered weightlessness in his heart.

Victor's most charming, heart-shaped smile looks like an admission of guilt, but Yuuri can't honestly do anything other than sit up and pulls Victor's face up for a kiss. Victor's lips taste a little salty, a little sweet, and Yuuri rests a few kisses on them, before he lets go.

Given free reign, it doesn't take long for Victor to return to nibbling on his thighs. The sensation is something Yuuri never thought he'd enjoy, but he honestly can't really focus on what he did and didn't think before, because every time Victor sucks on Yuuri's flesh, the throbbing between Yuuri's legs gets more urgent, and by the time Victor noses at the prominent bulge in Yuuri's underwear, Yuuri is a breathless, unravelled mess that can't think of anything else than having that sweet mouth on his dick.

"Please," he begs when Victor mouths against the fabric. "Vic-Victor..."

He can feel the hotness of Victor's breath like a brand iron. The wetness of his mouth, too, where it leaves spots on the fabric and chills the air that comes through. It makes Yuuri shudder with want, claw his fingers on the back of Victor's shirt, so desperate he would've been embarrassed if the flames of desire weren't licking at his heels.

"What do you want, my Yuuri?" Victor asks against the very place where the material ends and skin begins. "Say it, love. Tell me what you want."

"I want–" Yuuri sucks in a breath, hot with want and embarrassment when he forces the words out: "I want– _you_ , I want your mouth on me. Please, Victor..."

Victor doesn't say another word: he simply pulls Yuuri's underwear down to his knees. And he moans.

He _moans_.

Yuuri can't believe his own ears at the sound Victor makes, so he looks down his body to where Victor's nuzzling against Yuuri's dick. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed and lips already wet and parted, and so hungry that Yuuri instantly feels dizzy. He's such a stunning sight that Yuuri's breath chokes in his throat. 

"You're so thick," Victor praises, and his voice is just as thick with want.

He takes Yuuri's girth in hand, practiced and sure, and Yuuri sucks a breath so harsh that Victor tears his eyes away from the cock he's mesmerized by and looks up at Yuuri.

"You're gorgeous." Victor licks his lips, intent, driven. "And I can't wait to have you in my mouth."

"Then get on with it."

Yuuri slaps a hand over his mouth. He can't believe this came from him, and his wide, shocked eyes search for confirmation in Victor's. It's right there in the lazy smile that graces Victor's face and the sweet delight that shines in his gaze.

"I'm sor–"

Victor doesn't seem to want to listen, though.

Mesmerized, Yuuri watches him bow his neck, hair slipping from behind his ear in a beautiful silver veil, and... It isn't even a second later that Victor swallows Yuuri's dick whole.

Yuuri makes a sound so loud it's almost a scream.

The heat of Victor's mouth is so much more intense around the sensitive skin there than it was on his nipple, and Yuuri practically mewls when Victor takes the whole thing into his mouth.

Not the whole thing, actually, no. Yuuri can feel Victor's hand clench at the base, but the heat of Victor's mouth and the ministrations of his tongue, which twirls patterns onto the very head, distract him from it enough to completely forget it's there.

With his face flaming, Yuuri lays there, staring at the ceiling through the holes between his fingers, and having his dick sucked for the first time in his life.

It's unreal, this situation.

He, Yuuri, has Victor Nikiforov, his idol, his crush, _his_ _boyfriend_ sucking his dick in a hotel room in Paris. The slurping sounds Victor makes sound so, so... Wow, Yuuri doesn't even know the right words, except that this feels way too good, but it's also _embarrassing_ , but it's also the kind of pleasure that makes him moan, but also he feels bad because he should reciprocate, but Victor is–

Yuuri's vision goes black around the edges when Victor moans around him. The pleasure that spikes through Yuuri's body is so violent that his hips jerk without his control. Victor moans again at that and while Yuuri is still recovering from the sheer shock of the sensation, Victor pulls off his dick. He kisses the swollen, red head, and with the most innocent of expressions turns to Yuuri, who isn't fooled in the least.

There's a deep flush on Victor's face and a dark glint in his eyes. His hair is a mess that looks far too beautiful for what it is they're doing and, on top of it all, Victor's lips glisten with spit just like Yuuri's cock does when Victor nuzzles his nose into it while leisurely stroking it with his hand.

"Yuuri..."

Every nerve in Yuuri's body is set aflame by that voice and Yuuri can't help the shudder that is strong enough to make his toes curl.

"How would you like to fuck my mouth?" Victor asks in that sinfully low murmur of his.

Yuuri's gasp is sharp and hard, but that's all the sound he can produce, because his words are suddenly gone and the only thing he can do is feel.

Victor seems to understand that. He smiles beautifully up at Yuuri and turns his eyes back to Yuuri's dick. It's throbbing hard in Victor's grip and Yuuri's certain that he'll be coming way sooner than he normally does.

No wonder, though. Victor is doing a great job in pushing Yuuri beyond his limits.

"Come now, love," Victor says, reaching up to take one of Yuuri's hands.

He guides it to the back of his head and, absently, Yuuri pets through his hair a few times. Victor's eyes flutter shut at that, so sweet, so lovely.

"The other one, too."

Yuuri puts his other hand on the other side of Victor's head, runs them both through his hair. The sigh that escapes Victor is as soft as it is arousing, because his mouth is still far too close to Yuuri's dick.

When Victor looks up at Yuuri again, he is a picture of true contentment, if Yuuri has seen any. It's a little odd to think that this, what they're doing, could give Victor's face such blissed out glow, but then again Yuuri doesn't know much about Victor's sexual preferences.

Neither does he know his own, so if this is something that makes Victor happy, Yuuri is willing to try it.

"Now, sweetheart, fuck my mouth," Victor whispers, resting a kiss on the tip of Yuuri's dick.

"Wait," Yuuri asks right before Victor takes him in his mouth again. "What if I... um... what if I have to, you know..."

Victor's smile is sweet. "Warn me before, so I don't choke, but other than that? I'm all yours, my Yuuri."

It's beyond embarrassing to hear something like that spoken so casually, but honestly, Yuuri's face is already so flushed he doesn't even think there's room for any more. So he nods, and he swallows, and he watches how Victor wraps his tongue around the head of his dick and takes it into his mouth.

And then, once it sits there, he lets his tongue lay flat, tilts his neck a little bit and slackens his jaw.

All Yuuri gets is a flick of his blue, starlit eyes to know it's okay to start.

The position they're in isn't the best for thrusting. Yuuri needs to lift his hips off the mattress every single time and he knows his thighs will hurt afterwards, but the soft inviting heat of Victor's mouth is irresistible. Without complaint, he pushes up into Victor's mouth and soon, the movement seems almost as natural as Victor's little moans and noises of encouragement.

It's good enough to get lost in, Yuuri figures.

There is the wetness he's plunging his dick into, the sounds of slurping and choking, the sweetness of Victor's hums, but there is also the view of his cock pushing past Victor's slack, glossy lips and that, that is something that makes Yuuri's fingers curl in Victor's hair desperately.

He tugs Victor's head closer, deeper, harder, and Victor's moans only grow in appreciation. It drives Yuuri insane and his hips twitch out of control, but he doesn't stop, not even when he feels the tip of his dick hitting the back of Victor's throat.

Victor doesn't stop him either. Not once. He only gives him soft moans in encouragement, while his spit slides down Yuuri's cock and coats it thoroughly. Wet, hot, warm... it's far more than Yuuri ever thought he could handle. But it's true that he's doing this now, and he's pushing his dick into Victor Nikiforov's willing mouth, and it feels like, it feels like dreams coming true right under his fingertips, which dig into Victor's hair and pull, pull, closer, harder, more–

And like that, Yuuri carries on until he can't hold back anymore and the tightness in his belly is so overwhelming, he feels like he will burst any moment now.

"Vi–" he gasps when Victor sucks on his cock. "I'm gonna– ah– Victor, I'm–"

All Victor does is pull back a little against the harsh hold Yuuri has on his head and suck on the tip of Yuuri's dick so hard that Yuuri sees the stars. He soars, with a gasp and a keen; he comes, twitching.

And it's only when his vision turns back on, does he notice that it isn't Victor's mouth that took all his load – it's his beautiful, flushed face.

Strings and strings of cum paint over Victor's cheeks, eyebrows, eyelashes. It drips everywhere, slides down his chin, but Victor seems unbothered. Contrary to Victor's calm, Yuuri's heart flutters inside his chest with nerves, because surely that must feel disgusting–

"Oh god," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. I– Let me wipe you off–"

He lifts a hand to Victor's face without thinking, but Victor pulls away from him just as fast.

"It's fine, Yuuri, it's fine."

"Fine? What are you–"

Yuuri's confusion is ignored when Victor grabs one of their shirts and quickly wipes his face in it. He doesn't get all of the cum off, but it doesn't seem like he cares to anyway. Yuuri can't even feel his face anymore from how hard he must be flushed, but he feels his heart throb.

Yuuri has always agreed with the polls that named Victor the sexiest man alive, but now? Now this whole thing has been taken to another level and Yuuri is fairly certain he will never be able to get hard again unless he thinks of Victor – there is no one else who could compare to him. No one to even come close.

God, Yuuri is so–

Victor discards the shirt again and crawls back to Yuuri. He reaches for Yuuri's face, but hesitates right before they kiss.

"Is it okay?" he asks, as if Yuuri could ever refuse to kiss him.

Instead of replying, Yuuri kisses him, and slides his tongue into his mouth. It tastes weird, and gross, but _it's Victor_. His own cum smears onto his face from where Victor's touches him briefly, and it's a little bit disgusting, but also... it really isn't. Not entirely.

Yuuri feels pretty weird about all of it, but he shrugs it off as inconsequential for the moment. He can worry about hygiene, and shame, and his daring behaviour later. For now... for now he only needs to focus on Victor and his mouth–

And it's exactly this mouth that Yuuri has fucked just moments ago.

The thought gets him hot altogether and he breaks away from the kiss with a gasp. Victor's eyes look into his with a dark fire inside them, hot and lustful, but Victor doesn't say a word to push him. He gives Yuuri space and lets him decide what to do, and that more than anything gives Yuuri the courage to ask:

"Do you want to keep going?"

"We can continue if you want to," Victor says. "If you think you can."

Yuuri swallows harshly. "Um, I... I have good stamina."

The grin that spreads Victor's lips is a sharp one.

"Oh, really? Should we check to see how true that is?"

Against that smile, and these words, and what Victor has just done for him, Yuuri can't say no. Not that he wants to. Oh no. Now, more than before, he wants this. He wants to have this with Victor, because he knows that he can trust a man who would be open enough about himself to allow a lover to do what Yuuri has just done.

His blood is sweetly buzzing in his veins again and he is still lax and soft from the pleasure of his previous orgasm. It's a good feeling, floaty, so when Victor crawls over him, Yuuri opens up his arms and kisses him without any qualms.

"Do you want to be fucked, Yuuri?" Victor asks between the kisses and Yuuri's mind screeches to a stop. "Or do you want to fuck me?"

How he says these things without an ounce of embarrassment is beyond Yuuri's comprehension.

"I, um..." Yuuri bites his lip, awkward and uncertain. "I mean, you let me–"

He makes a gesture at Victor's face, suddenly unable to look at it.

"So I guess it would be fair that you do me this time," he mumbles into Victor's chin, when Victor kisses his burning cheek.

"Is that what you want? I don't care about what's fair, Yuuri. I only care about what you want, so if that isn't something you're comfortable with yet, or at all..."

"No, no, I– I think I'd like to try?"

"Are you sure?" Victor asks again.

He looks at Yuuri with so much concern that it melts Yuuri's heart a little, but it also makes him a little angry. He might be inexperienced, and he might be embarrassed about a lot of things, but he isn't that fragile. He won't fall apart because of this.

"I'm sure," Yuuri says, this time with a hard set to his jaw. "I want this. And I want you to– to fuck me."

Victor exhales softly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just want this to be a good experience to you, that's all."

"And it is," Yuuri tells him. He smiles when Victor's eyes meet his and brings his hand to Victor's cum-smeared cheek, rubbing some of it away. "It's the best experience I could've asked for."

Maybe he's lying a little, maybe he isn't – Yuuri doesn't know himself.

What he does know, however, is that he is glad Victor is the one he's doing this with. Yuuri feels safe with him, in power, really, even though it's Victor doing most of the work, asking different things and leading all the way through, but he does it with honesty and care that make Yuuri feel like he can trust Victor even further.

So he does.

And when Victor's hand sneaks between his legs, Yuuri closes his eyes and allows himself to be distracted by Victor's kisses. It's not enough to feel gentle lips on his own to forget about the slick with lube fingers that slip into his asshole, but Yuuri is determined to give Victor back for what he received.

That is, he thinks so until Victor's three fingers deep inside of him and slides them in with ease and purpose, aiming at–

" _Ah!_ "

Yuuri would've been embarrassed by the sound that escapes his mouth, but he can't be, because pleasure bursts inside him like a firework just went off under his skin. His hands clench on Victor's shoulders and unfurl after, lax and numbed, but do it all over again when Victor rubs his fingers on that same sweet spot as before.

Yuuri gasps, star-eyed.

"Does it feel good?" Victor asks. He bows over Yuuri, runs his lips over the side of Yuuri's face. "Do you like when I do this?"

Victor pulls back his fingers and slides them back in, hitting that very spot which has Yuuri moan again. He bites his lip to keep it down, but Victor moves to kiss them until they pry open and the sounds leave Yuuri freely. There is already enough heat crawling under Yuuri's skin without it, yet Victor's tongue works Yuuri's mouth like his fingers work his asshole: methodically, patiently, with love.

Yuuri feels unravelled even before Victor touches his dick. It's hard again, aching, when Victor takes it in hand, and Yuuri cannot withhold a shudder. Victor, as close as he is, must feel it, too.

"Oh, you like this, too, don't you?" he purrs, rubbing his nose on Yuuri's cheek. His hot breath feels like a tease on Yuuri's skin. "Do you think you'll like it when I put my cock inside here? Stretch you out until you're so full you'll forget how to breathe?"

Yuuri forgets it now, because Victor's words make him throb all over. His dick is one thing, but there is another spot just as desperate – somewhere deep in Yuuri's body where not even Victor's fingers can reach, and it wants. It craves. It begs through Yuuri's open mouth with sounds he should be ashamed off, but isn't, because the only thing he can think of is the heavy weight of Victor's dick, rubbing against his thigh.

Yuuri groans. He squeezes his arms around Victor and pulls him more firmly on top of himself.

"Then do it," he pants. "Put it inside..."

"I will," Victor promises. "I want to. _God_ , trust me, Yuuri, I want to."

He curls his fingers inside of Yuuri so suddenly that Yuuri's toes curl at the pleasure that spills over his body in waves. Yuuri gives a groan, which sounds far more like a sob, but he can't really help it: it feels too good.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now. I want you so bad."

It's sweet, it's flattering, it's... Yuuri can't even find the words for it. He simply knows that in Victor's hands he feels like a person who may be worth all these compliments. He feels like maybe he deserves them.

"Tell me," Yuuri asks. "How... how do I look?"

"Divine," Victor says. His fingers work Yuuri open still, sick and talented. "Soft. No, not fat. Never fat," he adds when Yuuri's eyebrows draw together. Victor rests a kiss between them, too. "You look perfect, Yuuri. Radiant. Kind. Nurturing. But also strong. Stubborn. Driven. Inspired. Passionate. People revere your magnificence, Yuuri. They worship you."

The little breathless laugh escapes Yuuri without him meaning to let it. It's too hard to believe that he, the shy, recluse who hides behind his masks in fear, could ever be all those things that Victor apparently sees in him.

Victor pauses in his speech and looks him in the eye for one second, before he smiles a little.

"You don't believe me." It's not even a question, Victor just states the obvious. "You don't have to, not yet. But, Yuuri, I promise you, one day you will. And that day will be the best day of my life, I'm sure of it."

"You can't promise that," Yuuri argues, but Victor kisses the rest of it off his lips.

"I can," he whispers softly. "Let's just say I'm a seer and can see the future, shall we?"

Before Yuuri can reply to that, Victor's smile changes into something sharper.

"And that future tells me that you are ready now for something bigger than just my fingers."

"Are you going to...?" Yuuri asks, suddenly feeling caught off-guard when Victor pulls his fingers out of him and the coldness of his empty ass registers in his brain.

"Did you change your mind?" Victor asks back. "It's alright if you have. At any point, just say the word, Yuuri. I won't be mad."

"I– No, no, that's not it. I was just, just asking."

Victor offers him a smile and, even though he's blushing, Yuuri returns it, somewhat sheepishly. It takes little to no time for Victor to kneel back, grab a condom and unzip his jeans, but before he can pull them off, Yuuri stops him.

"Can I...?"

The flush on the bridge of Victor's nose is a sweet little thing that Yuuri wishes he could see more of. So when Victor nods and mumbles an excited, "Yes, of course," Yuuri pushes the stiff fabric down Victor's hips and thighs until the precum stained black thong, bulged from the hard dick inside, is visible to Yuuri's curious eyes.

It's not the first time he sees a dick that isn't his, but it's virtually the first time he gets to touch one. But before he does it, Yuuri slides his hands over Victor's hips, rubs his thumbs against the bones that make the V leading straight down to the main prize so prominent.

He's gorgeous, Victor is. He's stunning.

And when Yuuri's hands slide to the back, bold and daring, and grab Victor's ass, Victor's little moan awakens a heat inside him that Yuuri never knew could be possible.

In an almost involuntary move, Victor leans forward and bends his spine to push out his ass more for Yuuri's exploration. He rests his hand on Yuuri's shoulder for support, but that hand becomes his whole arm that wraps around Yuuri the moment Yuuri's fingers find their way between his ass cheeks where the V of the thong leads him.

A little drunk on the power this allows him, Yuuri slides two of his fingers down the smooth line of the fabric, down, down, deep between Victor's legs. Victor shudders against him, panting, and Yuuri pauses when his fingers slide all the way to his balls. He's slightly terrified of how bold he's being, but all that embarrassment melts away when he hears Victor's ragged breathing. That reaction, and all the ones before this, have Yuuri convinced that Victor is–

"Say, Victor," Yuuri whispers into the ear that conveniently is very close to his mouth, "do you perhaps like to do this... um, the other way around? Do you like to have someone do to you the things you've done to me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Victor replies and moans while Yuuri rubs his fingers upwards again and stops at the place where he can feel Victor's asshole through the material. "I love it. I love it so much, Yuuri. Would you like to...?"

"I– Yes," Yuuri tells him, suppressing his own shiver at Victor's hot breath against his neck. "But I think it might be a little too much for me now, so... next time. Is that, is that okay?"

"Definitely."

Victor agrees, and the way he sounds makes Yuuri believe he's happy about it. That, unlike anything else, brings relief to his heart – something he didn't know he needed until he felt it. Gently, Victor kisses his way up to Yuuri's mouth, where he rests the longest and the sweetest of kisses, and which Yuuri returns with just as much feeling.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me." Yuuri shakes his head. "I'd be honoured, if you'll have me."

"Anytime," Victor replies, smiling. "But now, please take these off, because I will come in my underwear like a schoolboy if I have to wait a second longer."

Yuuri almost laughs at how absurd it sounds, but the desperation in Victor's eye is real. It's also real in the hardness of his cock, which Yuuri frees when he pulls Victor's thongs down his thighs with clumsy fingers. The thing springs free, ready and hard, begging to be touched. So Yuuri touches it on Victor's prompting: he wraps his fingers around the length and strokes it slowly, curiously, waiting for Victor's reaction.

It's immediate – Victor gasps, Victor groans, Victor thrusts into his hand, impatient, driven, beautiful. Yuuri feels the same desperation throb between his legs and he snags the condom out of Victor's hand without a second of hesitation. He still remembers the traumatic experience of Phichit re-teaching him the proper way to put one on, but when he does it this time, he's honestly glad for it.

Yuuri rips the packet open, rolls the condom onto Victor's dick and then strokes it a few more times while he gropes the bed for lube with his free hand.

Where this sudden confidence of his is coming from he doesn't know, but looking up at Victor who gifts him with such sweet sounds makes Yuuri want to take care of him. It makes Yuuri want to hear more. It makes him... hungry.

For Victor. For more. For–

"Yuuri," Victor whines, and chants his name like a prayer. "Yuuri, Yuuri, my sweet Yuuri, God, you're so good to me..."

Even Yuuri moans a little then. He wastes no time in pulling Victor down as he falls back onto the sheets and once they're both there, pressed heart to heart, Yuuri brings his lips against Victor's and kisses him like he hasn't kissed anyone before: desperate, committed, impatient.

"Do it," he asks between the kisses that Victor lavishes him with in return. "Put it in, Victor... Please."

Without moving away from Yuuri's mouth, Victor sneaks a hand downwards where his dick presses into Yuuri's groin and slides it between Yuuri's legs. Yuuri can feel the slick slide of the condom, the hot press of the throbbing length as he grinds his hips into him.

It drives him insane with want. That little spark of need that he felt before deep inside him returns and Yuuri desperately needs Victor to finish what he started.

Victor doesn't need any more hints, though. He knows what to do and how to do it, and the moment his lips leave Yuuri's, Yuuri knows that this is it – this is the moment he will lose his virginity. To Victor Nikiforov, of all people.

A little giggle escapes him at that ridiculous thought. Who would've guessed that this would be–

"What's so funny?" Victor asks, looking down on him.

"You," Yuuri says, smiling. "And me. Us. Doing this. I never imagined this would happen."

Victor frowns at him, clearly not understanding the messy process of Yuuri's thoughts. "Do you want to stop?"

"No, no. Absolutely not. I'm just... it feels a little surreal to me? That you and I are here, now, and all because of Phichit."

"Well, not all because of him," Victor stresses, but grins then, too. "I guess we better thank him later, no? But for now, stop talking about other men while I'm about to pound your ass, Yuuri, please."

The crass words make Yuuri's mouth drop open in shock. He blushes hard under Victor's amused gaze and bites his lip, before his treacherous mouth shoots: "Fine. Go on then. I'm still waiting for you to deliver."

Victor gasps at that comment, delight mixed with surprise on his face.

"Yuuri!" he gives. "Where did that sass come from?"

"Not from my empty ass, probably," Yuuri says back, even though he tells himself not to. It's stronger than him and Victor seems to be loving it, so...

"You, my Yuuri," Victor says, leaning down to kiss him one more time, "are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

He pulls back, eyes intent. "But enough is enough. Let me fill that empty ass of yours, so you don't have any more excuses for me."

And before Yuuri can even think of a reply or the blush that now stings his cheeks harshly, he is distracted by the tip of Victor's dick at his asshole. The push comes slow, but to Yuuri it feels like all too much at once anyway. He sucks in a sharp breath and tenses up to guard against the incoming pain – which is clearly the wrong move, because it only hurts _more_ – but once he's done it, he doesn't really know how to undo it.

He squeezes his eyes against the pain and it's a great relief when Victor stops.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Victor sweetly croons at him. "Try to relax, Yuuri. Breathe."

One of Victor's hands finds Yuuri's and their fingers lock together. Yuuri squeezes that hand like a lifeline and takes a deep breath to at least try to do what Victor tells him. After a moment, he feels another slight push, and another. Yuuri doesn't even remember closing his eyes, but when the mattress underneath him seems to shift with Victor's movement, he opens them again.

Victor is beautiful, tender somehow, where he's hovering above Yuuri, but it isn't that view that takes Yuuri's breath away again. It's Victor's dick pushing inside him, grind after grind, slowly, but so painfully steady, too. Yuuri never imagined this to hurt this way: not entirely painful, but uncomfortable enough to actually hurt.

"Oh god," he chokes when the head of Victor's cock slips inside at last.

His breath comes like a rush that makes him both dizzy and relieved.

"Are you okay?" Victor asks and he sounds just as undone as Yuuri. "I know it must be hard the first time around, I'm so sorry. I can try to go slower if you want?"

And oh, Yuuri realizes that it must take as much self-control and patience on Victor's end to carry through with this in a way that won't make Yuuri hurt worse than he already is.

"Yeah," Yuuri manages to say. He squeezes Victor's hand and repeats, "Yeah, it's hard... but just... keep going, please?"

Victor gives him a sharp nod and slowly begins to push in again. It seems easier now that the head is already in and the sway of Victor's hips helps Yuuri to distract himself from what little ache there is. It can't distract him from the feeling of fullness, however. Yuuri can tell that his breathing is getting shorter the more of Victor he takes, and it's odd, being filled like this.

He's grasping at Victor hard again when Victor finally stills.

"How do you feel...?" he asks on a little wrecked breath.

"I'm–" Yuuri gasps a little. "–not sure?"

"We don't have to go through with this if you don't like it," Victor says, but Yuuri can see the twitch of Victor's jaw muscles when he fights against his own urges. "Whatever you'd like, my Yuuri."

"I won't know if I like it unless we go through with this, right?"

He seems to be adjusting well to the fullness in his ass, to the feeling of Victor's throbbing dick inside him. The thought makes him blush again, but it's not a bad thought or a bad blush. It's... quite the opposite.

Yuuri brings his hand to his lower belly, rubs it on his skin as if he could feel the outline of Victor's cock past the layers of muscle.

"You're right here inside me," he whispers to himself rather than Victor, but Victor still answers him.

"I know, I can't believe it myself," Victor says, watching the place where their bodies are locked together. "I'm having sex with Yuuri Katsuki."

Yuuri snorts, he can't help himself. Victor sounds far too awestruck.

"You make that sound like it's something to brag about."

"It is," Victor insists. His eyes lift up to Yuuri's, honest and sweet. "It is to me."

He says it with so much honesty that Yuuri can't really doubt his words. He can't blush any harder than he is blushing now, either. So he only bites his lip and lets his eyes close, because looking at Victor is a little hard when he's so honest and so–

Yuuri doesn't even know what to call it, but it makes him feel so tender a single breath could break him. He doesn't let it. Not a single breath, not another, but a pair of lips that he presses his own against when he pulls Victor onto him. Victor can consider it something to brag about, but to Yuuri it's more than that. As a man whom Victor has chosen, he's inflicting the anger, the wrath, the scrutiny of the entire world and... Yuuri is proud of it. He's proud to be the man who stole Victor from them all. Proud and happy, and resolved – to be someone who deserves him.

With his lips resting against Yuuri's in an afterkiss, Victor takes a deep shuddering breath. Their eyes meet briefly and Yuuri feels hot all at once at the sheer want in Victor's gaze. It's there, bold and bright, but there is also something so soft about it. As if Victor wants him, but also wants to protect him, hold him, keep him.

It makes Yuuri shudder. And when Victor pulls his hips back and pushes into Yuuri again, Yuuri knows that he's right about this. Victor moves with care and gentleness that he used in preparing him, and the sweetness of his forethought makes Yuuri feel loved.

It's experience of something pushing into his ass is strange at first, weird, really, but Victor sets an even pace – slow, but not too slow – and Yuuri adjusts enough to be able to relax and give into the rhythm that rocks the mattress and his body, both.

To be quite honest, it doesn't feel like much at all at first. Just a push and pull out, an even rhythm that doesn't really give any excitement. A fleeting thought that maybe this just isn't up Yuuri's alley passes through his mind, but he pushes it away when Victor's tiny groan makes his own cock throb. A little embarrassed to be seen like this, Yuuri wraps his hand around himself and strokes the length to the pace of Victor's thrusts.

Now this, this feels like something.

Pleasure tingles under Yuuri's skin, sweet and tender like teasing fingers. He closes his eyes and tilts back his head when a little sigh slips past his lips. Victor's dick continues to fill him and... it doesn't feel that bad, Yuuri realizes.

"You look so hot right now, Yuuri," Victor tells him, voice rough. "Go on, play with your cock for me. Make yourself feel good. Show me how you come when you're alone."

Yuuri doesn't even have to look at him to know that Victor's gaze is heated – he can feel it on his skin, just as he can feel Victor's hands gripping his hips. He's thrusting in deeper, faster, and Yuuri moans when he matches that same speed to his own hand.

It seems like Victor is the type to talk during sex, because he keeps on giving Yuuri sweet praises and compliments that fall on Yuuri's skin like kisses. It's more embarrassing than being naked before him for the first time was, and Yuuri's entire face stings with the force of his blushing, but he doesn't tell him to stop. He can't. Not when Victor sounds so wrecked.

"You're so tight, so wonderful... God, Yuuri, I feel like I could come just from watching you jerk off."

And when Yuuri swipes his thumb over the slit in the tip of his dick, which makes him shiver and clench up, a delicious, messy moan rips away from Victor's mouth.

"Do that again," Victor begs. "Do it again, plea– Oh God _, Yuuri_!"

Yuuri quickly discovers that it's more fulfilling to bring Victor pleasure than to seek his own, because Victor's reactions are far more arousing to Yuuri than anything else.

Or so he thinks until one of Victor's desperate keens turns into a thrust so deep that Yuuri sees the stars.

His sharp cry doesn't get lost on either of them and when Victor thrusts in again, he's aiming for that same spot once more. He hits it over and over again, and suddenly Yuuri can't breathe from the numbingly delirious pleasure that spills over his entire body in waves, much less think clearly about anything other than the drag of Victor's cock inside him and his own hand clenched around the base of his.

It's that same spot that Victor rubbed with his fingers before, but this time he's merciless about hitting it with his dick, and the feeling of fullness combined with the heat and the bursts of pleasure is just–

"Ah, _Victor_!"

Yuuri moans, gripping his cock hard enough to hurt, because he's sure that if he doesn't, he will come within seconds. Victor only grunts as he keeps on fucking into him, while his mouth becomes as dirty as the sounds of skin slapping on skin and the squelch of lube that fill the room.

"Yes, Yuuri, yes! This is what it's about," Victor pants, pulling on Yuuri's hips with harsh, desperate fingers to drive deeper into him. "Can you feel it? How full you are, how desperate for it? How my cock is the only thing you can think of right now?"

And yes, Yuuri can feel that: the deep, overwhelming ache for _more, faster, harder_. The words spill off his tongue along with even more pitiful moans, but Victor doesn't make fun of it for him – he complies with Yuuri's wishes and pounds into him so hard that the entire bed shakes, and with it so does Yuuri's world.

"This is what sex is like," Victor tells him.

His voice is almost drowned out by Yuuri's moans and the sounds they both make, so dirty, but yet driving Yuuri nuts with it too.

"Do you like how it feels, Yuuri? Do you like when I hit you so deep you can't even breathe?"

"Yes..." Yuuri gasps, stars behind his eyelids. "Yes, yes, yes, Victo– _ah_ –"

When Victor pauses to bow down and kiss Yuuri's chilled lips, Yuuri's hand trembles where he grips his cock so hard it hurts. But the pain is sweeter now, laced with pleasure, and when Victor's dick simply stays inside him without moving, Yuuri feels like he will go insane from how badly he needs him to move.

So without waiting, he shifts his own hips back and forth, and even though it's hard, it's also better than just staying still. Yuuri moans, desperate.

Against Victor's lips, he begs: "Victor, please... move... I need to–"

Victor kiss him again instead and Yuuri gives a shallow groan, which is more frustration than anything else. It earns him a little laugh from Victor when he pulls back. Blue eyes are fond as they look down at Yuuri, but Yuuri doesn't have the presence of mind to focus on that, not really.

"Come on," he urges.

Before Victor answers him, he rests his hands on both of Yuuri's knees. He rubs the tender skin there as if he was trying to touch Yuuri down to the bone.

"Vic–"

"Wrap your legs around my waist," Victor tells him, leaning forward so it'd be easier.

He pulls up Yuuri's legs too, and shifts Yuuri's hips – hikes them up and bends Yuuri under his own weight. Yuuri gasps when Victor's dick slides even deeper at the changed position and his thighs clench around Victor's hips instinctively.

It's Victor's turn now to groan now, a delicious rumbling sound which Yuuri swallows greedily when Victor kisses him again.

"God, you're divine, Yuuri," Victor praises him, lips hot and wet. "I want to live between your thighs."

Yuuri would've blushed in any other circumstance, but he is too turned on now to bother with such things. He rubs his cheek against Victor's as he pulls him the closest he can and he whispers right into Victor's ear:

"Who says you can't?"

It's like a magic spell, his words are. And the effect is immediate: Victor shudders so visibly that Yuuri feels him twitch under his touch. Without a word of warning, Victor thrusts into him again, and he quickly picks up the pace from before, forgetting himself in Yuuri's body.

But Yuuri can't honestly blame him. His own mind is focused only on one thing and that thing is Victor's dick, driving into him deeper, faster, more relentlessly than before. He can only lie there and moan, and squeeze his legs around Victor, while the bed squeaks from how hard Victor is fucking him. The people staying in the room next to theirs can probably hear all of it, but Yuuri doesn't care – in fact, it makes him even louder, hotter, more desperate when he imagines that someone might be a witness to this, that someone might know how _deep_ , how _hard_ Victor has fallen for him.

Wrapped in that thought and Victor himself, Yuuri screams as the orgasm finally hits him the moment Victor's cock slams against his prostate again. He can't arch off the bed, because Victor is pinning him down, but the force of it makes him spasm and pull Victor even deeper, closer, as if he could swallow him whole.

Yuuri doesn't know where his cum landed, doesn't care that his entire hand is sticky with it. The only thing he cares about is Victor's whines and moans as he fucks Yuuri through his orgasm and chases his own.

He comes a few seconds after. Hotness spills inside of Yuuri's belly, warms him up unlike anything he's ever felt before. He rubs his cum-covered hand over his belly, satisfied, happy. Victor hovers above him on weak arms and when Yuuri's eyes take him in, he can see him shiver. Blue eyes are closed and Victor's mouth is parted, gasping, and _oh_ – Yuuri realizes that he's still coming as more and more warmth fills up his ass.

Yuuri moans at the heat that reaches up to his face now, too. Victor is beautiful, so gorgeous like this, shaken, broken, ecstatic, and it's all because of Yuuri. All because of _him_. _He_ is the one who put that expression there after Victor fucked him so good that they are both now unable to think straight and frankly–

"You look so hot right now I think it'd be enough to get me pregnant," Yuuri blurts out, tongue slightly lax with the pleasure that still seeps sweetly into his veins.

Yuuri feels drunk on it, drunk on passion and love and sex, and if this is how it feels like, Yuuri decides, then he can understand how some people get addicted to this.

He feels free. He feels good. He feels... invincible.

And when Victor's eyes finally open and Yuuri looks into unfocused, blissed-out blue, he knows he isn't the only one.

"You can't say things like that just after we had sex, Yuuri," Victor complains weakly as he leans his forehead against Yuuri's. He's smiling sweetly. The beautiful, wonderful Victor...

"I'd want to make your wishes happen, and then what? Makkachin and Vicchan won't forgive us if have another baby to take care of."

It's such a silly thing to say to Yuuri's absurd idea that Yuuri can't really help his laughter. He giggles right in Victor's face, but it's alright, because Victor grins with him, too. And when Yuuri stops, still with a grin, still with sweetness on his lips, Victor only gives a little kiss to the tip of his nose: adorable, accepting, and unbearably charming.

Yuuri's heart, or what's still left of it in a solid piece, melts from the sudden bout of affection inside his chest. But it's more than alright, he thinks. This is... more than alright. It's wonderful.

And if anyone should have bragging rights here, it's Yuuri, because he knows he found something special – and he's going to keep it for as long as he can.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [adriana bertini's dresses for condom couture](https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2702868/Contraception-couture-Fashion-designer-showcases-fabulous-gowns-entirely-CONDOMS.html) which are completely made of condoms to promote safe sex and encourage aids/hiv prevention  
> [@LITTORELLA'S GORGEOUS ART](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/180633005787/diylib11) which I still can't stop staring at even after all those months rydcjbn  
> something for real fashion lovers [a louis vuitton fake condom](http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/TMG9071483/Louis-Vuitton-condoms-the-fashionable-way-to-fake-it-in-the-bedroom.html)
> 
>  
> 
> well, I hope you enjoyed that at least half as much as yuuri ;3c


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder to check out [@littorella's incredible art from last chapter](https://littorella.tumblr.com/post/180633005787/diylib11) before we dive into more of this goodness ;3c

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri doesn't really know when he falls asleep – possibly somewhere between trying to catch a breath after Victor kisses him softly goodnight and melting into Victor's arms as their naked, warm bodies press to each other under the covers – but he knows when he wakes up, because he wakes up hard, hot, and spread on Victor's fingers.

He comes into consciousness with a gasp and a moan that spills from his lips before he even realizes what's truly happening.

"V-Victor, _what_ –"

Victor's long fingers rub against his prostate, turning Yuuri's tongue into a numb little thing that curls around another moan when Victor's free hand sneaks over his hip and takes his already leaking cock. His touch is gentle there, soft, and Yuuri shivers at the assault of pleasure.

"Good morning, love," Victor whispers into Yuuri's ear, leaving a kiss on the top of it. "I was wondering when you'll wake up, but you're a pretty _hard_ sleeper, aren't you?"

Yuuri groans at both, the joke and the slow press of Victor's fingers inside him. He can't help his blush, but he hides his face in the pillow, where his own hands clench desperately to have some purchase.

"You could've woken me up, you know," Yuuri complains once he catches his breath.

"Aren't you awake now?" Victor asks brightly, kissing a trail down the side of Yuuri's neck. "You were moaning so sweetly in your sleep that I couldn't bring myself to pull you out of your dreams. Were they nice, Yuuri? Were you dreaming about us? About what we did last night, perhaps?"

Heat pools low in Yuuri's belly at Victor's suggestion. He wasn't dreaming of that, or he doesn't remember what exactly he was dreaming of, but... Now that Victor reminded him of it, Yuuri can't put it out of his mind.

Especially not with the leisurely way Victor's fingers work in and out of him.

"How could I not?" Yuuri mumbles. "It was so... so..."

"It was, wasn't it?" Victor agrees, bucking his hips into the back of Yuuri's thigh. "I dreamed about it, too. And when I woke up and found you in my arms, I just couldn't help myself."

The confession rips a tiny moan out of Yuuri again. Maybe it's the combination of Victor's hand stroking his dick and the fingers that softly massage his insides, but hearing Victor's voice without being able to see him is getting Yuuri as aroused as watching him come yesterday was magical.

Emboldened by the memory of it and Victor's hot breath on his skin, Yuuri uncurls one hand from the pillow. Victor's fingers twist inside him deliciously, and it's almost on instinct that Yuuri arches his spine and pushes his ass into him for more. It makes him blush, but after all they'd done... it's fine, isn't it? To be a little forward? To, to give Victor back for all he's done for Yuuri this far?

It should be, Yuuri decides, as he slowly reaches back to slide his hand down Victor's abdomen until he gets to the main prize, which sits against his thigh like a promise. And there, to the little noise of approval Victor gives, Yuuri rubs his palm against Victor's hard cock. The angle is odd, Yuuri's arm is twisted and his wrist will hurt in a few seconds for sure, but Yuuri somehow doesn't care. Victor's fingers drag inside him in a sweet, sweet torture and it's almost as if his body has been set aflame – he feels the spark when Victor thrusts up into his palm, and then he's helpless to stop it from twisting up into a roaring blaze that engulfs him whole.

He wraps his fingers around Victor's cock, determined, and strokes Victor's dick at the same pace as Victor's teasing touch brushes against his most sensitive spot.

"Are you... going to...?"

Victor knows what he's doing with his hands. He's so good at this, _too good_ , because it's only been a moment that Yuuri's been awake, yet he already feels unravelled and desperate for release.

Victor's fingers never change their pace, though. They keep gently rubbing, prodding, curling, a slow, careful rhythm. It's not the kind of rushed, needy prep they did last night. It's different now. Sweeter. But also all the more mindbreaking for it, too.

Yuuri feels like all his thoughts have become centred around his ass and he can do nothing to stop this. He'd never believe anyone if they told him he would crumble to the allure of sex so fast, but Victor is destroying all of the convictions Yuuri has been holding onto so fast that it makes Yuuri dizzy with want.

"What?" Victor asks, and Yuuri can tell he's smiling. He feels it pressed into his shoulder, where Victor has chosen to rest his face and place quick, lazy kisses to Yuuri's heated skin. "Do you want this?"

He thrusts his hips into Yuuri's hand and the smooth, slick with pre-cum cock slides through Yuuri's lax fingers. The tip of it hits one of Yuuri's butt cheeks and Yuuri can't bite back a groan when the pleasure spikes again. The heat clings to him, pulses between his legs, and it's– It's–

"Is that it, my Yuuri? You want my cock? You want me to spread you and fuck you, and make you moan so loud that everyone hears exactly what we're–"

Yuuri isn't sure who is taken more by surprise the next moment, but Victor falls silent when with a sharp gasp Yuuri's body winds up tightly and he comes all over Victor's hand. The gasp quickly turns into a moan when Victor's fingers don't stop their teasing – they're still rubbing into Yuuri's prostate, slow and sweet and absolutely maddening.

It's that unrelenting pleasure that has Yuuri shudder violently as his orgasm comes and just keeps on coming, straw after straw of cum, which Victor rubs into his dick as he milks it all out of him.

"You are extraordinary, my Yuuri. Always full of surprises," Victor whispers against Yuuri's ear when Yuuri's body finally stops spasming, but he doesn't withdraw his hands. Overstimulated, Yuuri can only lie there and moan, and let Victor do whatever he wants. "I can't wait to discover what lies ahead of us, because you make the future so tempting and bright."

Tired as he is, Yuuri doesn't have the brain cells to answer. The thought of Victor talking dirty one second and then spewing such romantic sentiments the next is absolutely hilarious, so he gives a little laugh that sounds far more like a drunken giggle. It breaks off into a moan when Victor's fingers rub against the most sensitive part of him one last time before Victor pulls them out, leaving Yuuri warm, satisfied and so relaxed, he could fall asleep in seconds.

Which Victor would probably allow, Yuuri has a brief thought. He's sweet like that, and Yuuri finds himself loving that part of him more than anything else.

"But first things first..."

Victor's voice makes Yuuri push the temptation away as Victor leans over Yuuri, warm and hard, and rubs his cock against Yuuri's butt as he looks Yuuri in the eyes for the first time that morning. There's an excited light in them, something so youthful that for a second Yuuri is caught in it.

"Can I fuck your thighs?" Victor asks, grabbing one thigh with his hand and squeezing. "I've been dreaming about this since the day we met, I swear, your legs are the most–"

Yuuri doesn't know where he gets the strength, but he shifts to the side so that Victor can easily slide himself between his thighs. The little noise of appreciation that Victor makes sends delightful warmth straight to Yuuri's heart, but even when Victor spreads lube between his thighs to make the friction easier on them both, Yuuri doesn't feel arousal kick back in.

He's satisfied. He's happy. He's warm.

He's done.

But just because he is, doesn't mean he wants Victor to be stuck with his cock so full. He can't do that to him, no. Not after Victor has been so kind and caring to him. So when Victor pulls his hips towards him a little, bends Yuuri's legs, and pushes on his back, Yuuri lets him manoeuvre his body however he pleases.

This is about Victor now: his pleasure, his dreams. It sounds utterly presumptuous, but Yuuri is secretly very happy to indulge Victor in what he enjoys. He's very, very happy about many things, and Victor – since he's the one who makes Yuuri so happy – deserves to be just as happy as Yuuri feels. If this little thing can do it for him, then Yuuri will gladly let Victor hump his thighs, or come on his ass, or lick his armpit–

Well, maybe that last one would be too embarrassing, but... Yuuri still would probably let Victor do it. It's Victor, after all.

Smiling stupidly to himself in his dazed, blissful state, Yuuri sets his cheek on his pillow.

He could fall asleep like this, he thinks.

It's getting harder and harder to resist the pull of the soft bed, and even the hard cock Victor slots between Yuuri's thighs doesn't make sleep less tempting. Victor does all the work needed: he thrusts and moans and jerks his hips into the back of Yuuri's legs and... it's hot. It is. At any other moment Yuuri would be burning from embarrassment, maybe moaning in pleasure and getting hard again, but now?

Now he hides a yawn into the pillow. A ghost of the lingering caress of Victor's fingers inside him makes him shiver with post-haze, and instinctively he clenches his ass and clenches his thighs. Victor gives a moan so loud and wild that Yuuri almost thinks he's hurt him, except–

"Ah, _Yuuri_ ," Victor calls his name desperately. "Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri... You're so soft, so good to me..."

With one hand, Yuuri reaches back and none-too-gently digs his nails into Victor's butt. The flesh is hard, supple, but it isn't that which Yuuri has been aiming for – it's _that groan,_ and the sweet Russian curse that follow.

Victor's pace picks up, faster, faster, harder, until the entire bed shakes and Yuuri along with it. Finally, when Victor comes, he does it between Yuuri's thighs, babbling in Russian that lulls Yuuri to sleep.

He doesn't feel it when Victor pulls away, nor when he rests a kiss to Yuuri's shoulder or temple. Sleep takes him into its warm arms, but when it does, they still feel like Victor's: safe, solid and sweet.

 

 

 

 

There are no more surprises like that when Yuuri wakes up again. He's alone in the bed and, by the quiet of the room, he figures that he's alone period. The brief moment of panic at the thought that maybe Victor left because Yuuri fell asleep on him – or that he wasn't satisfied enough with just using Yuuri's thighs and not fucking him in the end, or another dozen of things Yuuri could've done to make Victor upset – passes when Yuuri takes note of Victor's things still strewn around the room.

Among them is a little card standing on his nightstand.

"I'll be back soon <3," it says.

So without further worrying, and with a deep sigh of relief, Yuuri gets out of bed and decides to take a shower. His entire body feels sticky, but it also feels achy and tense, which is understandable after everything they've done. And if Victor is gone for the moment, there is nothing better to occupy his time with until Victor returns.

Except he doesn't return when Yuuri gets out of the bathroom again. He doesn't return when Yuuri remakes the bed and sets himself up on the little couch with his sketchbook in his lap and a pillow under his butt, which is _very_ tender. He doesn't return even when Yuuri has already finished designing the orange turtleneck he promised Victor – and it's a pretty design that Yuuri adores and is sure will look stunning on Victor–

–on Victor who is still gone.

The thoughts from before return, nasty and dark, but before they can take root for good, the door to the hotel room opens and Victor, who was gone but now isn't, steps through with a big bag in his arms and a heart-shaped smile on his face.

"Yuuri, you're up!" he greets.

He drops his card and the bag on the small drawer by the door, shrugs off his jacket and bounces over to Yuuri like a... like an excited puppy. There is no other way to describe it and, as he plops down onto the couch at Yuuri's side, Yuuri can't really help his grin at the ridiculous, infectious happiness that radiates from Victor.

It's so silly... it's sweet.

"Are you feeling alright?" Victor asks, kissing the two corners of Yuuri's lips one by one. "Did I tire you out too much? I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be," Yuuri quickly tells him, despite his blush at the remainder of why exactly his backside feels so sore. "I enjoyed it too, so you don't need to apologize. It's... I'm fine."

"Fine and busy at work, I see." Victor gives a glance at the sketchbook, which Yuuri flips shut before he can see too much. "Secret project?"

His smile is a giddy one, and so bright it makes his eyes look like sparkling water. Yuuri replies with a much similar expression on his face.

"Our secret project," he corrects. "But this one is just for you, so you'll have to wait and see it when it's all done."

Victor hums, a cheerful, sweet sound.

"I can't wait. But first–" He stands up and makes his way back to the bag he brought with him. "–breakfast. I'm sure you're starving and the queue was horrendous, but I promise you these are the best croissants in the whole of Paris."

"Now you're just spoiling me," Yuuri says, unable to hold back a smile. "How will I fit into any clothes we make if you keep feeding me good things like this?"

"We'll just have to make you lose the calories in a more pleasant way than those awful diet&exercise pairings!"

The blush is still warm on Yuuri's cheeks when Victor pecks him on the nose and it only deepens at such a sweet, tender gesture. Yuuri doesn't even feel his back ache anymore when he drops his legs to the floor and sits properly on the couch, while Victor covers the entire table with delicious smelling pastries.

"Bon appétit!"

Yuuri doesn't even realize how hungry he is until he's on his third croissant, and by then he isn't even ashamed anymore to reach out for the fourth. It doesn't help that Victor pushes the plastic plate towards him with a finger and warm, soft eyes that make Yuuri melt like the sweet pastry melts in his mouth.

"About the clothes though," Victor starts, licking his fingers off the remaining powder sugar from his puffy doughnut.

He looks like a piece of tangy, delicious marshmallow – sweet and soft and lovely. Yuuri is stricken by how beautiful he is, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, either, he's made aware of how attracted he is to him.

His boyfriend. Victor Nikiforov.

"We need to take measurements," Victor continues. "I want to start working on your suit as soon as I can."

"Do you already have it designed? Can I see?"" Yuuri asks once he remembers to swallow the last bit of his croissant.

"Yes and no," Victor chirps, smiling, and boops Yuuri on the nose with a finger. "It's a surprise! At least until the final fitting."

Despite the disappointment, Yuuri can't help smiling as well. "So you want to work on our pieces separately until the big reveal? As both a surprise _and_ a secret competition?"

When Victor grabs his face and gives him a big, big kiss, dazzling, startling, warm, Yuuri can honestly feel his heart sing inside his chest. He doesn't remember ever being as happy as he feels in that single moment of surprise and it's all because of this man, who he's lucky enough to be able to call his.

It's incredible.

"I knew you'd understand! This will be the best work I've ever done, I can feel it!"

Chuckling, Yuuri wipes his fingers on his jeans, but, truth be told, he shares Victor's thoughts. He has never been as inspired by anything or anyone as he was by Victor over the many years, and even now Victor is all the inspiration he needs. These past few months only go to show just how great an influence Victor has over him and his creativity, but this time everything is also a little different from what Yuuri has done before, too. This time it's more personal, more real, more... raw.

Because Victor is no longer just Victor Nikiforov, an abstract idol. He's also Victor – the sweet, caring boyfriend, who presses soft kisses to Yuuri's lips, and whose eyes light up with delight whenever Yuuri teases him.

It's still slightly embarrassing to think of this Victor as _Yuuri's_ Victor, but... he is, isn't he?

Before a full blush can creep onto Yuuri's cheeks from the direction his thoughts have taken, he gets himself off the couch and picks his measuring tape from his carryon. He turns to Victor, who doesn't need to be told twice to stand in the middle of the room.

"Let's get this over with then, so we can do something fun later," Victor grins.

Yuuri refuses to let his focus waver as he takes all the numbers he needs. He moves the tape from the width of Victor's shoulders to the underarm, to the fine waist and hips and thighs and legs, until he is almost done. Almost.  

"Now I need you to sit down," Yuuri tells Victor, who obliges without an argument.

When Yuuri wraps the measuring tape around Victor's head, however, Victor makes a small noise that Yuuri can't really place, so he asks:

"What?"

"What's this for?" Victor asks back, touching the tape with his fingertips.

He looks unhappy, somewhat... pouty? Yuuri blinks in surprise at this new find.

"I promised to make you a mask, remember?" he reminds Victor as he notes the numbers in his sketchbook and takes more measurements of Victor's nose and cheekbones. "I was even thinking of maybe making a hat? What do you think?"

Victor makes a noise again, and this time Yuuri recognizes it as one of those "I'm unhappy, but if you're happy I will suck it up" sounds. Victor does them a lot, and it's taken Yuuri a while to recognize them, but now he does. And he'll be damned if he lets them go just like that.

He stops then and lets the tape hang around Victor's neck while he measures him with only his glance.

"So?"

"So what?" Victor smiles, playing dumb, but when Yuuri only looks at him, he crumbles, looks away and gives: "Just cover up my forehead, please? I don't really like showing off how big it is."

Yuuri gasps. "But it's so cute!"

When Victor's eyes snap up to him, they're shocked. Surprised. Stunned.

Yuuri makes a small noise of frustration himself and without even thinking he crawls into Victor's lap. At the same time as Victor's hands come up to his thighs and hips to hold him up, Yuuri's hands grab Victor's face. He pulls it towards himself, brushes away Victor's hair, ignoring the noise of protest that leaves Victor's lips again, and finally – he leaves a good dozen of kisses on Victor's big, _yes_ , but a d o r a b l e forehead.

"It. Is. So. Freaking. Cute. How. Dare. You," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss.

"Yuuri," Victor whines, but his complaints get muffled by his own laughter. "What are you doing?"

"Showing my appreciation for your big forehead," Yuuri says, still peppering kisses over Victor's head.

"Hey, you called it big!" Victor accuses, but his voice is lighter now. "How mean!"

"Is it as big as your heart?" Yuuri asks, smiling. "Or as big as your smile?"

He kisses his way down Victor's cheek and then rests one on his lips, too. At that, Victor goes blissfully speechless and Yuuri can now safely put his fringe back and give his big, loving forehead one more tender kiss.

He feels the blush on his cheeks, but it doesn't stop him from saying what he wants to say.

"I love it," Yuuri says when he looks Victor in the eye again.

Victor's own face brightens with a blush, a precious pink on his pale, pale cheeks that looks like fairies have brushed his skin with their little wings. He's so beautiful, so handsome that Yuuri's breath gets stuck in his throat for a moment, but–

Victor's doesn't.

Instead, he makes a gurgling sound and before Yuuri knows it, Victor flips him onto the bed and, despite Yuuri's undignified squeak, hugs him so tight that Yuuri's breath leaves him all over again, yet this time for a different reason entirely.

The breathless laugh that falls from Yuuri's lips is hidden in the head of silver hair that nuzzles into his chest.

"You are so unfair," Victor mumbles.

"I am, aren't I?" Yuuri agrees, amused.

"So unfair," Victor repeats.

Yuuri only hums at it and drops a kiss onto Victor's head. In the moment, he didn't notice the slight coconut scent that seems to seep out of Victor's scalp, but he does now, and Yuuri nuzzles his nose right into Victor's silky, scented hair with a small sigh of delight.

"What about the measurements?" he asks a second later, but Victor only squeezes him tighter.

"We have time," he says back.

And Yuuri smiles, because Victor is right: they do. They have all the time in the world.

 

 

 

 

Except they don't.

After they're done with the measuring, after their impromptu cuddling session, countless of kisses and sweet words shared in the safety of their little hotel room – it's night again, and that means trouble.

Yuuri's flight is tomorrow. It's an afternoon one, so there is no need to rush now, not yet, but Yuuri's heart tearfully whispers inside his chest: "It's too soon."

Victor seems to share that sentiment, because when they lie down to sleep that night – in one bed, close, far closer than the nights before – Victor mumbles the words into Yuuri's chest.

"Will you still come to my show?" Yuuri asks.

He twirls a lock of Victor's hair around his finger and somehow imagining that from tomorrow he will not have Victor this close is a little bit painful and a whole lot lonely.

"Of course," Victor immediately says back. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

But Yuuri hears the real sentiment in Victor's voice. The unspoken "I already miss you," that neither of them has the courage to say out loud.

Yuuri slides himself a little lower on the sheets to be face to face with Victor. Blue eyes peer into his with something so heartbreaking inside them that Yuuri feels choked even before he makes up his mind on what to say. And he can't think of anything, because what can he say now to make all of this better? There are no words that could alleviate the misery which hangs around them.

So instead of talking, Yuuri kisses Victor deeply, and Victor kisses him back with just as much desperation in the slide of his lips. That night there is nothing left of the teasing, dirty-talking Victor who unravelled Yuuri with his tongue and fingers. The room is quiet, barely lit except for the lone lamp on the nightstand, and it's only their breaths and hushed moans that accompany the squeaking of the bed.

But it's good.

It's good, because Victor opens up to him this time. It's Victor who whispers directions into Yuuri's ear and it's Victor who bends his knees and parts his legs so Yuuri can crawl between them, hot, needy, yet desperate for something else, something more than just this.

He's patient with Yuuri's inexperience, he's forgiving and kind and only always ready to kiss Yuuri's doubts and fears away.

Yuuri loves him for it.

He really does, he realizes the moment he looks down into Victor's flushed face, at his flushed neck and the deep crimson that reaches down even onto his pale chest.

Yuuri loves him. Yuuri loves Victor Nikiforov.

When his eyelashes flutter shut while Yuuri's dick slides into him, when his mouth parts on a breath of Yuuri's name, when he lifts his hand to push away the hair that has fallen into his face and he looks up at Yuuri like Yuuri might be just a dream, like he might disappear if he only looks away...

_Yuuri loves him._

He loves Victor.

And he isn't even surprised by it.

It feels like, well, it sort of feels like he knew it already. Before this moment and this thought hit him, Yuuri feels like he already knew he loved Victor. Not consciously enough to put the name to the feeling, but in a deep, deep corner of his heart, which has carried it inside him for a lot longer than he's aware of.

It should feel strange, this sort of realization, because they have known each other only a couple months, but... how long is long enough? When do you know for sure? How can you tell? And... isn't this enough? This reluctance to part, this feeling of never ever wanting to let go. Isn't this love? Wanting to see those eyes look at him just like he looks into them, kissing the lips that breathe sweetness into him, and breathing life back into them. Isn't this...?

"Yuuri," Victor whispers when Yuuri's hips stop moving. Victor's hand lifts up to Yuuri's neck, thumb pressed against the pulse point under his jaw, so tender, so soft. "Yuuri..."

"Yes, Victor?"

It's only when he speaks does he realize that he is trembling. Not only his voice, but his entire body. The tremors are light, shivers almost, but Victor can surely feel them in all the places their bodies touch. Victor's hand, which still rests on the side of Yuuri's neck, doesn't move away and the tiny strokes of his thumb are the only thing that soothes Yuuri again.

"It's okay," Victor tells him. "This isn't the end." He gives Yuuri a sweet smile. "So don't make that face anymore, okay?"

"What face?"

Victor sits up a little and pulls him close, so close their chests come together and Yuuri can feel the soft thunder of Victor's heart right before Victor says:

"Like your heart's about to break. I promise, I won't let it. Please, trust me."

"I do," Yuuri replies, just as his arms wrap around Victor to keep him close. "I trust you, Victor. I–"

 _I love you_ doesn't make it past his lips, not yet, but Yuuri feels it in his heart anyway, so he repeats himself again:

"I trust you."

"Thank you," Victor whispers back, sounding so tender that Yuuri only holds him tighter.

Vulnerable, open, they don't chase after pleasure that night.

Yuuri thrusts into Victor with hips that seek home rather than passion, and Victor's moans answer him: warm, inviting, loving. Every stroke of hand is filled with love. Every look, every kiss they share, too. It's _there_ , and as Yuuri coaxes an orgasm out of Victor, who gasps his name as he comes, Yuuri realizes that Victor must feel it just as Yuuri has been feeling it.

The love.

The trust.

The life.

Only once they are clean and cuddled together in bed once again, does Yuuri dare look at Victor again. He's beautiful, he always is, but there is more to it now: now Yuuri sees him as his heart does, and what his heart sees is even more beautiful than Yuuri could ever imagine.

"I love you," Yuuri whispers.

He's sure Victor heard him, because he tilts his head to Yuuri.

He's beautiful. He's soft. He's kind. He's loving, sweet, free. He's incredible, hard-working, talented. He's... he's far better than Yuuri deserves.

And he says nothing to Yuuri's confession.

He leans in to rest a little kiss against Yuuri's lips, but is that... can that be a reply? If, if Victor feels the same thing that Yuuri does, wouldn't he say it back to him? After they made love, and they did, there is no doubt about it – it wasn't just sex now, they truly made love to each other – why wouldn't Victor say it back...?

Unable to find a reason, Yuuri hides his face in Victor's neck under the pretext of kissing his shoulder, and it works. It works perfectly, because Victor hums a sleepy little hum and whispers a sweet "Goodnight," to him, but that isn't what Yuuri wanted to hear.

It's the opposite of it.

Victor falls asleep in Yuuri's arms not long after, but even though the hour is late, even though Yuuri's heart knows what it wants, and it's _this_ , Yuuri's mind proves to be stronger, still.

It whispers. It sneers. It corrupts.

Until Yuuri has no choice but to believe it – and he believes, because his heartfelt words were never returned. Victor doesn't love him back. And Yuuri knows why.

It isn't hard to guess. It's something he's always thought about himself, after all.

He just... he isn't worth it. It's as simple as that, and he was a fool to ever think he could be. Him, worthy of Victor Nikiforov's love?

Yuuri's lips tremble as they lift in a pained smile. He untangles himself from Victor and shifts to the other side of the bed, where he curls in on himself and breathes through the harsh clench of his throat.

He's an idiot, he knows. Such a big idiot.

And now, now he must pay for it with his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:
> 
>  
> 
> [designer cupcakes from the pastry studio](https://thepastrystudio.com/designer-cupcakes-from-the-pastry-studio-gucci-prada-tiffany-co-and-cartier/)  
> [chanel cupcakes](https://thepastrystudio.com/channelcupcakes/)  
> [luxe chanel cake](https://thepastrystudio.com/dt_gallery/luxe-event-cakes/chanel/)
> 
>  
> 
> bc fashion isn't always clothes -- sometimes you gotta treat your taste buds to something couture as well ;3c
> 
> but I'm pretty sure I can't distract yall with those sweet cupcakes at this point huh? well would you look at that bitter aftertaste uwu we're FINALLY getting somewhere~


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

 

 

 

The magic of Paris seeps out of Yuuri like the Parisian air does the moment he steps off the plane: so fast it leaves him dizzy and sick to his stomach.

What makes him even more sick is the flashing of cameras that greet him the moment he grabs his suitcase and enters the arrival zone of the airport. He's blinded by it all, deafened by the questions screamed at him from so many mouths that Yuuri can't even distinguish the words.

It's _madness._

People push, people pull, the cameras keep on flashing and the noise is just... too much. It's all too much. And too soon after leaving the noisy plane. Sadly, Yuuri doesn't have the audacity or rudeness necessary to tell them all to stop and fuck off like he wants them to, so instead – he runs away himself. At least that much he _can_ control.

He locks himself in the airport bathroom and dials the only person who he can trust to get him through this, because he's sure that the reporters outside are still there and the moment Yuuri steps out they will be once again–

Phichit, as always, picks up only after the first ring and before the phone is even near his ear, he's already talking a mile a minute.

"Hey, what's up, what's up! Are you back yet? Do you want me to pick you up? I'm free right now, so just say the word and I'll be there in a flash."

Despite it all, he's a blessed friend whom Yuuri adores, all flaws included, and who can apparently read Yuuri's mind better than Yuuri can voice his thoughts.

"Yes, please," Yuuri begs.

He doesn't know what he must sound like to Phichit, but when the happy notes disappear from Phichit's voice, Yuuri isn't surprised.

"Are you okay?" Phichit asks, and it's because of that and not the _what happened_ that so many others would first go to that Yuuri knows he has chosen well: Phichit is the best friend he could've ever made. Not that he gets any credit for it, it's all on Phichit, the wonder boy.

"Yuuri, talk to me. It's going to be fine. I will be there soon, okay? Just stay with me on the phone, yes?"

"I'm fine," Yuuri tries. "I'm– not fine, _okay_ , I'm not fine, but I'm not terrible? I just, I just freaked out, because there was so many people and cameras and–"

"Breathe, Yuuri, breathe," Phichit reminds him and Yuuri closes his eyes before he takes a breath through his nose and exhales through his mouth. "Good. Another." He does as Phichit says, and only then Phichit talks to him again: "You're still at the airport, yes? Can you tell me where?"

"A bathroom. I don't know which one... sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay! You probably made it to the one closest to your arrival gate. Don't worry, I'll find you."

Phichit's voice sounds even, calm, like he always is in situations where Yuuri's nerves get the better of him. There are no words that Yuuri can ever say to express his gratitude for all that Phichit's always doing for him, but he thinks that Phichit knows anyway. He must.

And yet, still, Yuuri forces himself to open his mouth and say a heartfelt "Thank you," because Phichit deserves to hear it.

"Think nothing of it," Phichit replies, once again his cheerful, happy self. "I was planning to pick you up anyway, so I cleared my schedule beforehand. I'll be right there, I'm already hailing a cab, so don't you worry a thing!"

Right there happens to be almost half an hour later, but Yuuri can't complain. Phichit stays with him on the phone through it all and it's better than allowing his mind to stew in the cramped bathroom stall. It's only when Phichit tells him he's at the airport already that Yuuri gathers up the courage to leave his hiding spot.

He doesn't dare face the bathroom door just yet, but simply looking into the big mirror at himself is enough of a challenge to brave until Phichit finally finds him.

"How are you holding up?" Phichit asks without a greeting, eyeing Yuuri in the mirror.

"Better. Sorry for–"

"If you finish that sentence, you'll be paying for dinner," Phichit warns. "And I'm warning you, I'm terribly hungry today."

"I was going to pay anyway," Yuuri says, but it's undeniable that Phichit's silly threat made his heart a tiny bit lighter.

"Now that's what I like to hear!" Phichit grins and wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulders. He squeezes once and when their eyes meet, he grins. "Want to get out of here and order pizza, so you can tell me all about your magical getaway with your boyfriend?"

Victor... Victor was the last thing on Yuuri's mind during the past hour, but now that he remembers him, Yuuri's heart clenches painfully in his chest. It's part longing, part loneliness, and part something else, something more bitter, which Yuuri swallows at the same time as he nods.

"Yeah, let's go," he says.

He doesn't want to think of how sweet Victor was when they said their goodbyes at the airport in Paris. He doesn't want to think of how sad Victor's smile looked when Yuuri caught it over his shoulder right before stepping into the departure zone. He doesn't want to think of how he almost cried when he told himself that leaving Victor behind would be better for them both, but still couldn't go through with it because Victor's lips felt so right pressed into his in a lingering final kiss.

Yuuri clears his throat now as it tightens at the very memory, which Yuuri pushes away with a stubbornness of a mule.

"Are they still there? The reporters?" he asks.

"Some. But you don't have to answer any questions, you know that, right? Let's just walk past them and we're free."

"Okay," Yuuri nods. "Okay..."

Phichit grabs his suitcase and Yuuri grabs his bag, and together they leave the bathroom to face the world. It's far more busy outside, so before the reporters even spot them they're already a few steps away. They aren't too far to escape them fully, though. In little to no time the cameras are back to flashing, but Phichit's hand on Yuuri's back pushes him forward even as his feet threaten to freeze again.

"Mr. Katsuki! Mr. Katsuki!" someone shouts after him. Yuuri shuts his eyes and walks away, even as the shouting repeats. "Mr. Katsuki! Is there any truth to the rumours that Yuugen and VN will be merging? What is the reason behind your close collaboration this year? Mr. Katsuki, is it true–"

A hash padding of heels at Yuuri's side makes his head turn almost involuntarily. A small recording device is thrust into his face while a petite brunette smiles at him a sharp, sickeningly sweet smile.

"I'm Dorris Mitchel from Harper's Bazaar, Mr. Katsuki," she says. "Would you care to comment on your relationship with Victor Nikiforov? There have been pictures, and there have been statements, but do you confirm it? Are you dating, Mr. Katsuki?"

Before Yuuri can answer, Phichit butts in with a smile as sharp and as sweet as the woman's.

"I hardly think that their relationship is any of your concern," he says. "If they want you to know, they will let you know. Don't you think so?"

Without stopping for even a breath, Phichit pulls Yuuri away into a crowd of tourists and then past them, right to the exit where a taxi is already waiting for them. Only once they're inside does Phichit's hand leave him, but Yuuri barely takes notice of it – his mind is in shock from what he's just heard.

"Merging?" he repeats through numb lips. "Did one of them say merging?"

Phichit gives him a curious glance, so Yuuri explains: "I think one of the reporters asked about VN merging with Yuugen? Why would they think that? That's ridiculous!"

"There has been this theory going around the internet," Phichit explains slowly. "People are saying all sorts of weird things like, Victor will be stepping down next year and you will be taking over VN, you leaving Yuugen, the merging thing. My favourite is the one where both of you leave your brands behind and elope to make a new one together. It's kind of romantic, no?"

It's so ridiculous that Yuuri can't help but laugh. It's a sound with no humour in it, empty and cold, just like he himself feels now.

"And people believe this?" he asks, then groans when Phichit's grin widens. "Of course they do. What else is new?"

"Well, you could confirm your relationship with Victor. That would probably stop most of these theories," Phichit points out.

"I–" Yuuri bites his lip and looks through the window just to avoid looking at Phichit. "I don't really know what to say to that."

Phichit doesn't push him right then, not in the cab, but the moment their pizza is ordered and Yuuri is fresh out of the shower in more comfy clothes, and with a slice of pepperoni in hand, he isn't as merciful.

"Spill," he only says, and like charmed the words flow out of Yuuri's mouth.

He hasn't realized how much happened during those few days in Paris, but now that he's telling Phichit all about it, he's surprised himself. The mess with Victor's damaged dress, their date, the sex, the planning, the– the everything.

_Victor._

"How was he?" Phichit asks when Yuuri mentions sex. "Did he do good? Were you happy with it?"

"You know I have no comparison," Yuuri mumbles into his pizza, cheeks aflame. "But, I guess? I mean... I was pretty happy? He was... um, considerate? And he likes to talk dirty, which was honestly so embarrassing, but also hot? He was hot. Is, I mean, he _is_ hot..."

He catches a glimpse of Phichit's grin through the fingers of the hand he keeps over his eyes to fight off some of his embarrassment and all of it just returns to him twofold. Yuuri groans while his cheeks burn.

"Stop doing that, I'm already dying over here."

"Hey, I'm not doing anything," Phichit protests, grinning still. "I'm just happy for you! You got laid! Whoo-hoo! Congrats, my dude! Welcome to the adult life."

"Shut up."

Yuuri throws an unfinished crust of his slice at Phichit. Phichit doesn't comment on it even when the remnants of the sauce leave a stain on his peach-cream t-shirt. He picks up the crust, dips it in the garlic sauce and takes a bite like it's the most natural thing to do.

"So, you're happy?" he asks, a genuine question that has Yuuri's embarrassment melting into something much more mellow. "You're glad you agreed to go?"

"I– I think I am. Glad that I went, that is. I'm not sure if I'm happy, though," Yuuri admits, and before he can explain himself, Phichit frowns.

"What did he do? Do you need me to kick his–"

"No, no, nothing like that," Yuuri immediately cuts him off, hands waving. "He didn't do anything. He was just... very sweet and caring and–" Yuuri takes a deep breath. "–and I realized that I really, really love being with him."

The silence that falls after his words makes Yuuri a little nervous, but it all ebbs away once Phichit smiles at him, happy and as soft as Yuuri felt when he first realized his feelings.

"That's wonderful, Yuuri," he says. "Did you tell him?"

Instead of answering that, Yuuri whispers: "He deserves better."

But Phichit frowns.

"Once more and louder, because if you said what I think you said–"

"He deserves better, okay?!"

Yuuri stands up, suddenly angry. He isn't angry at Phichit, but he's angry. At himself to some degree, for being an idiot who even for a moment believed that he could have someone like Victor, and then he's also angry at Victor himself, just a little bit, because Victor is lovely. He's the sweetest person Yuuri could have ever hopes to be with, and Yuuri wants that. But he can't have it. He can't have Victor, because even if he confessed, Victor didn't say it back and Yuuri doesn't believe it's just a coincidence.

He sets down his plate and walks away from the couch, trying to calm down, but it doesn't really work.

"I know what you're going to say, but it's true, isn't it? Everyone knows it! I don't really belong on his side of this world. I'm a hermit, you know that. I don't do well at shows, in front of reporters, and he deserves someone who can stand by him. Someone to carry half his burden. And that person... that person isn't me. Today just made it even more obvious."

"So what you're saying is that you know better what he needs?" Phichit asks. "And what he needs is, what, a PR person, according to you? Of course that's not who you are! Why compare yourself to that?"

"That isn't what I meant," Yuuri grumbles. The anger is gone now as suddenly as it came, but a lingering feeling of irritation remains. "I don't like being the centre of attention, but he does. He might not admit or know it himself, but he thrives on it. He's a genius, Phichit, and a genius always needs an audience. We're... we're complete opposites in that matter and I feel like... I feel like I would be stealing him away from the world if I allowed this to go on. And he can't be stolen. He deserves better than to die away in the shadows."

"Did you think that maybe he wants you to steal him away?"

Why, Yuuri wants to ask, _why would he want that_.

The words never leave his mouth though, because he knows why. Victor is lonely. He's tired. All the things he shared with Yuuri, all his doubts – Yuuri forgot all about those when his own insecurities blinded him to the fact that Victor has shared his wants with Yuuri very clearly from the start.

"You're right," Yuuri whispers. "You're right, he does want that, but... does he really want me to do it? There could be so many other people better suited for it, I–"

"But he picked you," Phichit interrupts him. "He picked _you_ , Yuuri."

Yuuri doesn't say anything to that, he can't. His throat is tight and his chest hurts, but it's relief that sits at the bottom of it, not pain. At least not anymore.

And when a few hours later he opens up his messages and picks Victor's name, the small "Let's end this," he has already started typing on the plane glares him in the eyes, but Yuuri only deletes it, and instead of following what his mind whispers, he follows that which his heart wants most – that which aligns with what Victor's heart seems to want as well.

"I miss you," he types. "Are you back yet?"

Even if Victor should not be able to answer, his reply comes instantly:

 

 

_I miss you too, sweetheart <3 :sob:_

_I wish I could be there with you :sob: :sob: :hug:_

_We're somewhere over the Atlantic, halfway there, I believe. This trip is far too long without you here :sob:_

_I can't wait to see you again :sob: :kiss:_

 

 

_Neither can I_ , Yuuri types, smiling.

It was so silly of him to think that Victor could want someone else, when all Victor himself has ever done was cling to Yuuri with all his might.

_I love you_ , Yuuri types, but he doesn't send it.

He stares at the words and then deletes them all, because he wants to be there to see what kind of expression Victor makes when Yuuri tells him again. This time, when they're both awake and paying attention. He needs to see if Victor will truly be happy about Yuuri stealing him away from the world. And if he is... if he is, then Yuuri knows he will give him his heart without hesitation, just like he did when he first saw Victor's designs.

"Be careful of the reporters," Yuuri writes instead. "They caught me right when I got off the plane."

"Are you okay?" Victor echoes Phichit's earlier question and Yuuri smiles to himself.

 

_Did they bother you much?_

_I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said all that at the show... It's all my fault..._

_I told you before, I don't mind._

_I just wish they wouldn't have gotten in my face like that._

_That wasn't pleasant._

_I'm so sorry, Yuuri ;u;_

_I wish I could've been with you to help :hug:_

 

_Thank you. It's enough to know you mean it._

 

 

He sees Victor typing, and then sees him stop and pick up again, and stop yet another time.

It's a little soothing to see that Victor himself has trouble making up his mind when talking to Yuuri, just like Yuuri himself feels sometimes when talking to him.

 

 

_I don't want to do this like this, but I have to tell you, because it means a lot to me that you know how I feel, Yuuri._

_I care about you. A lot._

_So, please, never doubt that I always want to be with you. Whether you need me or not, I always want to be with you._

 

 

As if he could read Yuuri's mind, Victor says the very words that Yuuri needed to hear to convince himself that Victor truly wanted him. Slightly choked, tearful, Yuuri writes back:

 

 

_Then you wouldn't mind if I stole you from the world?_

 

_Never. Just say the word, Yuuri, and I'm all yours :kiss:_

 

 

With a tiny smile, as he gives into jetlag and falls asleep, Yuuri thinks to himself: Good.

Because as long as Victor wants it, and as long as Yuuri can, Yuuri will steal him away time and time again. He's a selfish man, after all. And if the world wants to hate him for it, then Yuuri is ready to bear that hate – for Victor, and both of their happiness.

 

 

 

 

There is a lot of prep before a show, a lot of things to approve and change and correct, and Yuuri, as the head designer and the mind behind it all, needs to oversee every little detail personally.

It all needs to tick like a well-wound clock.

As such, of course, it takes up his entire time leading up to the big show on Friday, so he doesn't get to meet Victor except for a measly hour stolen away for lunch and one tiny dinner date on Tuesday, which is amazing and sweet and so, so good that Yuuri agrees to sleep over at Victor's place the second the offer leaves Victor's mouth.

They both know that what they want is far more than just a sleepover, so Yuuri welcomes the familiar weight when Victor crawls on top of him, kissing him with so much bare need that Yuuri feels it burn under his own skin, too, but by then it's clear to them that nothing other than sleep will be happening that night.

Yuuri is just too tired, too stressed to enjoy himself, and after a few deeper kisses Victor realizes that, too.

It doesn't daunt him in any way, however. He leaves sweet kisses all over Yuuri's face and neck, smiles into Yuuri's cheeks, and gathers him close as they both give into sleep, just happy to be together. It's lovely, this kind of intimacy. It's safe, it's solid, it's tender. It's a clear indication that Victor does care, and it melts Yuuri's heart with love for this beautiful, kind man.

Yuuri sleeps like the dead that night and when he wakes up in the morning there is a creak in his neck from where it rested all night on Victor's arm, but he feels so much sharper than any other day before when he slept alone that he can't keep his hands or lips to himself. There is joy singing in his heart, lifting his spirits up into the clouds, so how can he keep it all locked up?

It's impossible.

Hence, while their breakfast burns on the stove, he makes Victor come all over his fingers and then, into the crook of Victor's neck, he puts all his love until purple blooms under his tongue and paints Victor's skin. He whispers all the things he plans to do once they have more free time, seals all the promises with hungry kisses, and Victor... Victor wears the hickey that contains all of Yuuri's desires like a badge of honour, sitting low and visible right above the cut of Victor's cashmere v-neck sweater, which makes Yuuri blush, but never regret it.

Not when it makes Victor shine like he does now.

He drives Yuuri to the studio, kisses him in his car, and then with a heart-shaped smile and twinkling happily eyes shoos him out of his car. Yuuri laughs as he goes and this giddy mood of his lasts all of two days, all until Friday morning when he gets up and thinks this will be the best show he's ever put together, because his looks are perfect, his life if perfect, he is _in love_ – even if Victor still hasn't said it back, but Yuuri is sure he will when it happens next time, – so how could anything ruin this?

Before he can think of something, and he's sure his mind would be capable of it, he's called away to the last minute run-through of the entire collection. He hands his phone over to his assistant, so it doesn't become a distraction, and jumps into work a little early, but with twice the heart.

It's a good decision, too, because as soon as they arrive at the venue, they discover that one of the models had to cancel last minute, which means that now they are short a crucial look, and, of course, only someone with Olivia's experience and poise could show it off properly, so they have no one in reserve who could carry it with enough attitude.

"What should we do?" Yuuri asks Leo, his head stylist, who keeps looking at the clothing rack as if it holds the answer. "Can we really do without this one? It's, it's the jewel of the collection."

"We can't get rid of it, it has to walk," Leo concurs. "What if we get rid of this one then, and have the model walk in that one?"

By this one he means the rick blue oversized poncho with ruffled asymmetric edges. Yuuri loves that poncho. So he frowns, because trading the poncho for the Victoria isn't going to work, but _something_ has to go. Something needs to go, and they will be one look short in the entire collection, and that–

"No," Yuuri decides. He turns to his assistant and says: "Find me a model. Someone. Anyone. We can swap the looks then, but I need all of these to walk."

And when they all scramble to do as he says, Yuuri himself shifts through the clothing rack to one by one see which of the looks he can entrust to a model he doesn't know. He decides to go with the poncho anyway, as that's the one most adaptable to any shape or size, but he isn't happy. The blissful feeling of floating on a cloud is long gone and now only the blue motif of his collection remains to remind him that it once was there, but now isn't.

They don't find him a model.

It's how life goes, Yuuri tries to reason with himself while his heart trashes in his chest harder and faster the less time to the show there is left. Even backstage they can hear the noise picking up in the grand hall and, yes, indeed, the guests are arriving.

Yuuri will need to leave and greet people very soon, but he can't: they still don't have a model, and they still haven't decided if or which of the looks to discard. Honestly, Yuuri feels like he will burst into tears any moment now and sit in the pile of his clothes crying like a baby.

He doesn't give into that impulse, he can't, but the urge is so strong that he needs to escape the crowded backstage and the noisy audience for just a second. If he had his phone maybe he could distract himself by texting Victor, but his phone is still with his assistant, who is running around somewhere, trying to keep this show together while her boss is having a meltdown about having a meltdown without actually having a meltdown.

What a mess, Yuuri thinks, running his hands through his hair. Why are all shows always so messy? First it was Victor's and now it's his. Can't a single one of those ever go smoothly?

Yet, the moment the thought passes, he suddenly gets an idea. It's a wild one, for sure, but if it works...

He powerwalks back to the backstage where people buzz around like busy bees. It takes Yuuri a second to spot his assistant and when he catches her by the arm, she almost jumps out of her skin.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Yuuri quickly says and barrels on before she can even reply: "I need you to find out if Mila Babicheva is attending tonight."

All it takes is a few clicks on the tablet and Sarah nods. "She should be. She's on the guest list."

"Good," Yuuri says. And then he takes a breath. "Okay. Okay, let's save this show."

He pats Sarah on the shoulder and squares his own before he steps out of the safety of the backstage to greet everyone he needs to. Pushing a mask that covers almost all his face except for half his lips and cheek, Yuuri forces on a smile as the cameras begin to flash at his entry.

The show, after all, always must go on.

And it goes: on and on and on. The cameras keep flashing, Yuuri keeps posing, exchanging pleasantries with the people he knows, with those he doesn't, and, still, all he is really after is finding that one head of startling red hair, so that maybe not all hope can be lost on this burning, damned ship.

He finally finds what he's looking for, along with the rest of Mila Babicheva, who smiles at him and waves a friendly hand in greeting. Yuuri excuses himself from the Crispino twins he was just speaking with, and as fast as he can he makes his way over to Mila. He catches her right before she heads over to her assigned seat.

To say the least, surprise is among the many things that cross Mila's face when she looks him in the eye.

"I need to ask you for a favour," Yuuri tells her instantly.

If Mila was surprised before, now her face turns calculating and sharp. Yuuri hasn't seen her this way with Victor, and maybe if he had, he would've reconsidered, but at this point he's out of time and out of options, so he looks her in the eye and refuses to be cowered.

The smile on her ruby lips matches the sharp points of her nails when she taps one of them on her cheek.

"Now that's a rare thing to hear from you, Yuuri Katsuki. What might you want with me?"

"A model cancelled on me last minute and I need you to walk my final look for me," Yuuri quickly says. "Of course, you will be compensated. Money is not an issue–"

"No, money is not an issue, because I don't want money."

Mila's eyes lift to something behind Yuuri, but before he can look at what she saw, her gaze snaps back to him, even more intense than before.

"I want something else," she says

"What?" Yuuri asks, desperate. "If it's in my power–"

"The woman you were speaking to before," Mila interrupts him again and Yuuri almost bites his tongue this time. "That was Sara Crispino, wasn't it?"

Yuuri can only nod in confirmation, unsure of where Mila is going with this. But, truly, it's all in her eyes, because the moment she says the next words, Yuuri realizes her intentions clear as day. He's seen that look too many times on Victor, so when it shows up in Mila's, he recognizes it without any effort, but–

"I want you to introduce me to her," Mila says, alit with more than just simple fascination. "After the show, before the show, doesn't matter. Do I have your word, Yuuri?"

"Okay, I can do that," he agrees. "But you know that she might not like you, right? She might have a partner, or be straight. I can't guarantee you anything other than just introducing you two."

Mila laughs at that.

"That's fine by me!" Her smile sharpens again. "And, say, have you met me, Yuuri? _Everyone_ likes me. I've no doubts she'll find me just as delightful."

Yuuri isn't making a deal with the devil and he isn't selling his soul, but when he shakes Mila's hand it feels a little bit like that, to be quite honest.

He doesn't have the time to dwell on it, though. The show will be starting soon and now, as Yuuri and Mila both sneak backstage, he is sure it will be a success. He can't wait to show Victor the gown he made after their first meeting, and tell him all about the different looks he inspired, and once again tell him the most important thing, those three words that he hopes Victor will return this time bright and clear and just as loving–

–except Victor never comes.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [valentino fall 2018 couture dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-couture/valentino/slideshow/collection#52)  
> [valentino fall 2018 couture poncho coat](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-couture/valentino/slideshow/collection#27) which is the one yuuri has in his collection 
> 
>  
> 
> did you think I'll let the boys talk it out and solve everything just like that? oh dear
> 
> ;3c


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not for the first time in these last couple of weeks, Victor picks up his phone and dials Yuuri's number with a heavy, heavy heart. He doesn't expect to hear Yuuri's voice, no, and he isn't even disappointed when all he gets is four long rings and an automatic voicemail, which asks him to leave a message.

He doesn't. He never does, because speaking into silence somehow seems to hurt even more.

Instead he opens the texting app and types a quick message.

 

 

_I'm sorry, I need to take a raincheck tonight. Something came up at work._

 

 

And that's all he manages to send before his attention is pulled away towards work again. His phone is forgotten for long hours, but that's all fine. No one important will be calling or texting. He doesn't check for Yuuri's reply, because he knows there won't be one – not until hours later, that is.

Until hours later when it doesn't even matter anymore.

 

 

_Don't worry about it, I'm a little busy too._

 

 

It's as dry as Victor expected it to be, when he finally sees the text after he grabs his phone on his way out for the night. It's almost 2AM and the world is already asleep, but Victor isn't. Yuuri might not be. But Victor can't know that for sure, because the texts from him, apologizing for putting off their plans and Yuuri saying it's fine, along with Yuuri's own excuses and Victor's reassurances that everything is still going great, are the only conversations they have anymore.

No good mornings, no goodnights, no silly jokes, no sweet nothings. There is just... a chain of rejection, one after another, and Victor knows that he is a cause of at least half of them, but it doesn't make this whole thing feel any better. In fact, it only makes him feel worse, because at the very beginnings of their relationship he promised himself that he wouldn't let his work get between them and now he is doing just that. Or rather, he is doing nothing to stop it from happening.

But neither is Yuuri.

Yuuri has never been an emoji guy, so the lack of them doesn't hit Victor hard, but it still makes his texts look cold. Upset. Like he... like he's stopped trying. Like he believes this is hopeless and he just doesn't want to carry on with a relationship that is just about this: rejection, hopeful promise, and another disappointment in a vicious cycle that has no chance of ever breaking.

Victor keeps telling himself that it's all for a good reason, and that everything will go back to normal once he is done tying up all the loose ends before he finally steps down from VN. And once he does... once he does, he and Yuuri will have all the time in the world to just be together.

It's going to work.

Victor squeezes his eyes shut at night, in his lonely bed, with only Makkachin curled up next to him.

It has to work.

But with each cancelled date and each phone call Yuuri doesn't pick up, Victor's heart shrivels up in his chest a little. It's been three months of this madness, almost five weeks since he has last seen Yuuri face to face and not through a phone screen on some paparazzi photos snapped without Yuuri's knowledge.

It hurts.

It shouldn't, but it does.

And Victor doesn't really know what to do to fix this. How should he talk to Yuuri like this? Act like nothing's happened? Like they are still in that sweet hotel room in Paris, where he found such brilliance and ease in the way Yuuri blossomed under his kisses?

It feels too tense for that now, too awkward. Victor doesn't even know if what they have could be called a relationship anymore. Is he a good boyfriend? No, definitely not. But is he a boyfriend at all, when he hasn't seen or spoken to Yuuri in so long...?

But it's fine, Victor tells himself. He will fix all of this. He doesn't know how, but he will – when he has more time, after their collection launches, after he steps down officially. _Soon._

They will be happy together, soon.

He knows it. He believes in it. He hopes.

After all, would Yuuri still be working on their collaboration if he didn't want to make this work? Victor doesn't think so. He knows he himself wouldn't invest time in something like this, if he didn't hold onto a sliver of hope at least.

Yet each time when he enters the workroom and sees his own designs that have been tweaked by Yuuri, while he was at a meeting or on an out of town trip to secure the best possible future for his brand and the new project he's started working on out of desperation, something tightens in Victor's throat and fills his heart with that silly twinge of hope.

Bold, bright, dazzling – just like Yuuri's touch on his garments.

There are sketches that Yuuri leaves for him, updates on the progress of his own part of the collection, and Victor always takes them with him on his breaks, when he doodles all his thoughts on the paper. These moments, then, they feel almost like it felt when he and Yuuri worked on the initial designs on their flight to Paris. It feels a little like he has Yuuri there with him and, God, Victor is a fool for hoping, but he does hope that when Yuuri gets his notes back, he feels like Victor is with him, too, because Victor desperately wants that, still.

He wants so badly that when all the designs are finished, he aches as if he has lost a limb. As if a part of him has come to an end and he needs to fill the hole it left, but there is nothing worthy of doing the job. So he aches, and he hurts, and he hopes against all hope.

And maybe it's that hope that brings fruit, or maybe it's just Yuuri's sense of obligation, but Victor still thinks of it as a sign for the better future, when Yuuri texts him on the same day – or night, actually – again.

It's around 4AM when Victor gets the message. He is just about to take a powernap before he needs to take Makka out on the morning walk, but his phone pings and Victor's eyes snap open.

 

 

_Are we still set for Barcelona? I can handle everything if you can't make it a week early, but just make sure you send over the clothes beforehand._

_No,_ Victor types instantly, _I should be there._

 

 

He sends that, but it doesn't look right.

 

_I want to be there._

_It's our collection._

_I'll be there. I promise._

 

_Okay. I'm looking forward to it._

 

And maybe it's as simple as that, just being honest with himself and with Yuuri, but these few words Yuuri sends him mean much more than he possibly realizes. They mean that there is still a chance for them to save this. There is still a chance for them to be _happy_.

 

 

_I am, too :kiss: :heart:_

 

For the first time in forever, Victor adds a kissing emoji at the end of his message. It makes him quite nervous, but also quite excited, and above all – relieved and even more hopeful.

It's with a smile that he falls asleep for those scant few minutes he has, and it's with a smile and an eager thump of his revitalized heart that he crosses out another day on his calendar, which brings him closer and closer to the end of December and the beautiful city of Barcelona, where he knows miracles will happen, and love will blossom freely once more – he can feel it.

 

 

 

 

Except that the only thing that blossoms is the distance between them and Victor's exhaustion.

By the time he begins to pack for Barcelona he is finished with all the garments, or the parts of them he could finish without fitting them on Yuuri, who needs to wear the suit Victor has designed for the night of the show. The jacket is still very much in pieces, but since Victor and Yuuri haven't met in what seems to be a lifetime...

Victor's mood isn't the best when he checks in at the airport and it only gets worse when not a second after he sits down to wait until boarding begins, he receives a text from Yuuri.

 

 

_There's been an accident and half the roads to the airport are blocked, so I probably won't make it in time for our flight._

_I will be on the next one, so just go first and make sure everything gets there safe, okay?_

 

_Sure, I'm on it._

_Be safe!_

 

 

Despite his assurances, Victor sulks all through the flight.

The seat on his right is empty and Victor's heart is equally as empty.

He's been looking forward to this, to spending time with Yuuri again, but fate doesn't seem to be their friend. Not now, not even later, when Victor arrives at their hotel only to learn that Yuuri has booked them separate rooms. Properly this time.

It feels like a knife through his heart as Victor walks into his room and sees the single bed pushed up to the wall. That comparison may be a tad dramatic, but to Victor it truly feels like it. It's a clear rejection, far more than the shallow, business-like texts Yuuri has been sticking to, and Victor sits there on this single bed in a room that tells him how badly he fucked up, and he wants to cry.

He doesn't, of course not.

Maybe he lost Yuuri's trust, maybe he put too much distance between them, allowed too much of the happiness they once had to fester without proper care, but... that could still all be fixed, right? Yuuri will soon be there and when they finally see each other and talk this through, all of it will be behind them. They will move on and they will take back that happiness.

But it doesn't go how Victor wants it to, because when Yuuri finally arrives and they meet _on accident_ in the hallway, of all places – as Victor returns from the work room they rented for the next week and Yuuri is on his way to the room that is just opposite of Victor's – the look Yuuri sends him is far different from what Victor imagined it would be.

He thought he'll get a smile, at least maybe a nod of acknowledgement, a little "Hello," and maybe a "How are you? It's been so long." He was hoping for a hug, if not a kiss, but... Yuuri doesn't seem in the mood for any of those things. He doesn't seem to be in the mood for _Victor_ , because his eyes are dark and shadowed and his face looks even more tired and sad than Victor's.

And it doesn't change any when he spots Victor, either.

Yuuri doesn't say a word as their eyes meet, but he does leave his door open after stepping inside, so Victor follows him in like a puppet drawn on a string.

He's missed him. God, Victor thinks to himself, he didn't even realize how badly he's missed Yuuri until he finally came within his reach again – but now that he has, Victor can't bring himself to reach out, and it only intensifies the want within his heart.

It hurts.

It hurts possibly even more than not seeing Yuuri did.

"I'm exhausted," Yuuri says the first thing in months directly to him and Victor can't help thinking that he sounds it. "If there is anything urgent, say it now before I pass out within the next ten minutes."

There are so many things, _so many_ different things that Victor wants to say. He opens his mouth, but none of these are really urgent, are they? His feelings have been waiting for so long to be acknowledged that giving Yuuri a few more hours to sleep doesn't seem like that big a price.

"Nothing that important," Victor says then.

It's almost imperceptible, but when Yuuri sighs, Victor thinks he sees his shoulders slump with relief. It might be just an impression, a play of the shadows in the otherwise darkened by the sunset room, because Yuuri's back is once again heavy and slouched the moment he sits on his bed.

"Should I let you rest for tonight?" Victor asks, uncertain if it would be a good idea to just sit next to Yuuri and hug him.

He looks like he needs a hug, but Victor can't tell if he looks like he _wants_ one. So he asks, and he fidgets in place while Yuuri remains silent for so long that Victor begins to think he might not have heard him...

"Yuuri?" he tries again. "Do you want me to–"

"Victor," Yuuri cuts him off softly and the call of his name shuts Victor up perfectly.

Yuuri doesn't look at him, not for a moment, as he seems to be battling with his own thoughts, much like Victor himself. From where he stands above him, Victor can see the way Yuuri is chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek, the way his hands are clenched together tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, and he knows.

He knows what's going to follow, what Yuuri wants to say – or so he thinks.

And because of that, he drops to his knees before Yuuri, takes Yuuri's hands, and opens his mouth to tell Yuuri that there is still time, that they can fix this, but Yuuri is faster in dismissing what they used to have, what they used to _be_.

"Let's end this, Victor," he says, but he doesn't pull his hands away. Doesn't look Victor in the eye. He can't. And Victor's throat hurts from how badly he wants to cry. "This isn't working. Let's finish this collection and just... let's end this at that."

Victor's vision blurs before Yuuri is even done speaking, but he refuses to blink. He refuses to let the tears fall, because if they do then it would mean that these words are true, they're real, and Victor _can't accept this_.

"Did you find someone else? Someone better than me?"

At that, Yuuri's head snaps up, and his tired, angry eyes narrow down on Victor.

"Of course not! Why would you even think–"

"Did you lose hope then?" Victor interrupts him. "In us? In _me_?"

"That isn't– Victor, please, don't make this more complicated than it needs to be," Yuuri asks.

His hands tremble slightly in Victor's hold and Victor squeezes them on instinct, but Yuuri doesn't squeeze back.

"We're both just too busy for this and it's too much. You must see this."

It's everything Victor has heard before. It's all the reasons he's been alone for so long and all the reasons why he thought Yuuri was so different. But is he really? If all it took was a few weeks of missed dates while Victor wrapped up his entire life just so he could make more time for them; if that is all it takes to make Yuuri give up, is he really so different from the others who never truly wanted Victor for himself, not his work, in the first place...?

Yes. Yes, he is.

Victor knows it.

The differences lie in the subtle things: the way Yuuri makes him feel, the way he smiles when he looks at Victor, when Victor kisses him, the way he cherishes Victor when it's just the two of them as not the great designer, but just a man, and a man who is worthy of his time and his love, and his care.

And it's that simple. It doesn't need to be anything more, because that's all they need... no?

"Yuuri," Victor asks softly and he blinks, God – he blinks and the tears that have welled in his eyes drop down his cheeks, but Victor doesn't care now. Not anymore.

He lets them flow and he pleads with Yuuri like he never has with anyone before.

"Yuuri, please, tell me honestly: do you still have feelings for me? If you say no, then I will give up. You have my word, because pushing you is the last thing I want to do, but if there is even a sliver of your heart left that I can hope on, then please let's work through this. I– I really want to–"

His voice breaks and it's kind of funny. In that abstract, odd way, it's funny that Victor cares so much. He never has before. He has never been this desperate to save a relationship that was failing, because his career has always come first. And now, when he has all but set everything he worked on his entire life on fire and threw the ashes to the wind, he has a reason to fight. Without Yuuri, he'll have nothing.

But as Victor rubs the tears out of his eyes with annoyed fingers, he doesn't even care about that.

If Yuuri asks him to drop all his preparations for the launch of his new project, he will.

If Yuuri asks him to walk away from VN this instant, he will.

If Yuuri asks him to take his things and run away from the whole world, _he will_.

Should he only ask–

But Yuuri doesn't ask. He only looks at Victor with pained eyes and a hard set of his jaw, so beautiful in his stubbornness that it makes Victor angry. He lets go of Yuuri's hands abruptly and stands up, but he doesn't walk away – not yet. Something still keeps him rooted there, looking down on Yuuri as if maybe things would magically change.

"So you just decided we should break up on your own and I have no say in this, yes?" Victor asks, colder now.

"This is for the best, Victor," Yuuri says, resolved. "You deserve someone who–"

"Oh no," Victor snaps. "No, no, no. You don't get to tell me what I deserve after saying something like that. What I deserve, Yuuri, is what I myself want. And what I want is _you_ , but clearly we don't agree on that."

"So you're happy like this?" Yuuri asks, a little angry now, too. "You like not seeing me for months? Cancelling dates? Not even speaking to me except for work related things? Is this what you deserve, Victor? Tell me, please, because I thought I understood you enough to know that this is the opposite of what you want."

"You know this is just a phase. Only until I officially leave VN and finalize the–"

"But that is just an excuse!" Yuuri interrupts him, voice raised. "'Only until I leave', 'only until the collection is finished', 'only until the show'. It never ends, don't you see? The work we do, it never really ends, Victor!"

Victor stands there for a moment, watching Yuuri run trembling hands through his hair and tug almost painfully at it.

He's right, he realizes.

The work never ends, that much is true for the fashion industry. When one season ends, another begins; new trends need to be created, always. Be it from inside the workroom with fabric as his canvas, or the pages of a magazine that Victor has spent the last months building up. And issue after issue after issue... it will never end, just like Yuuri says.

"Then what, do you want me to stop working?"

He would, if Yuuri asked. If it meant they would be happy again, Victor would–

"Don't insult me," Yuuri hisses at him.

The fire in his eyes is scalding and, as attracted as Victor is to the fierceness on his face, he is also quite scared, because this is the first time he's ever seen Yuuri this furious.

"I would never ask you to do something like that. _Never_."

"Then what can I do to make this better?" Victor asks, frustrated. He runs a hand through his own hair. "What do you want me to do, Yuuri? I want to– I want _us_ to work out, I– God, Yuuri, I have never been happier with anyone than with you, and these past months have been a torture, but I still want to be with you. I'm still not willing to give up on what we had, so if there is even a bit of your heart that still cares for me then, please, let's try this again. And this time we'll do better."

"How?" Yuuri asks. "How do you propose we do it? If it didn't work out now, then it won't–"

"We won't know until we try it," Victor insists. "Don't write us off before we even try. Please."

Yuuri sighs. It's a heavy one that brings Yuuri's head down. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, resigned, tired, so, so lost. Victor wants to wrap him in his arms again, but the lack of reply to his heartfelt plea makes him hesitate.

Could Yuuri be so cruel as to deny him even a chance to fight...?

"I don't know where you get your optimism from," Yuuri finally says after a pause, which is not good for Victor's heart, "but I want you to think about everything I said, Victor. Just... think about it before you decide that you want this."

"Only if you think about what I said, too, Yuuri," Victor argues. "Promise me you'll at least consider it."

"Okay, I'll... think about it."

Yuuri's voice is so soft and quiet that Victor almost doesn't hear it – but he does, because he was waiting for it. Even if it isn't as enthusiastic a reply as Victor would have wanted, he accepts it, because it gives him a sliver of hope that maybe Yuuri can be convinced.

And with that hope, he leaves Yuuri's room after just one more glance at Yuuri's hunched form. It isn't returned, which hurts, yes, but with that fresh hope in Victor's heart maybe it doesn't have to hurt for much longer, even if now it hurts so much that it's hard enough to breathe, much less imagine that everything could be alright.

He desperately tries to convince himself of that, yet the moment he steps into his single room with the single bed, he knows it's all a beautiful, fleeting lie. He locks the door, walks straight into the bathroom and there – behind three sets of walls separating him from Yuuri – he bursts out crying.

 

 

 

 

The morning after their argument is awkward.

Victor can feel the tension like a layer of tulle over his skin, coarse and uncomfortable, but too thin to shrug off. They eat breakfast together, but apart from the clinking of the utensils their table is silent and gloom. Victor's eyes are still puffy and red, so he doesn't try to lighten the mood, but neither does Yuuri – and he looks just as bad as Victor himself.

They are quite a pair, Victor thinks to himself without an ounce of amusement.

In the workroom it's just as stiff as it was the whole morning, so Victor opens a playlist of his classical music favourites and puts it on. At least that gives his head enough of a distraction that every shift of Yuuri's clothes, every squeak of his shoes and every click of his tongue don't make his heartbeat spike like a spooked hare.

It takes them well after lunch to get all garments out of their bags and check them for damages. Thankfully, there is none this time, and after a quick cup of instant noodles, they get to actual work.

"Do you want to start?" Yuuri asks as he throws his empty cup in the trash. "Or should I?"

"Let's start with you," Victor replies. "I think you have more pieces, right?"

Yuuri nods. They split the collection evenly at first, but when Victor's priorities have shifted, Yuuri took on the bulk of the collection and finished off piece by piece to ease the burden on Victor's side of things. It was sweet of him back then, but now Victor feels guilty for ever agreeing to this. He feels guilty for ever asking for it.

Yuuri is right to be mad at him...

"Okay then," Yuuri agrees. He walks up to the dress form on the far left. "This one is for Phichit, so it's already a complete look. Then this one," Yuuri moves to the next one, "is the box shoulder leather jacket and the chequered quilt. Next is the wrap top with skinny leg pant, and after that the two coats. And then we get to the things you need to try on, and which I need to fit on you: the suit and the turtleneck." Yuuri pauses there and sighs. "We can leave the turtleneck for the last, since I have one fitted for the model already, so it isn't that pressing for you to try it on, but still."

"It actually doesn't look horrible," Victor says, eyeing the thing. "It's neon, but it's quite nice. I'm impressed."

"Thanks," Yuuri mutters without even looking his way. "So I guess, um, strip?"

Unprepared for such a direct order, Victor blinks for a second in shock. That's all it takes for Yuuri to flush, and as soon as he catches that, Victor himself is flushing, because that is so silly.

He's a true idiot, that he is.

"Oh, sorry, for the– um, yes, _for the suit_. Sorry."

It feels decidedly odd to be stripping before Yuuri like this, especially after what transpired between them only yesterday, but Victor tells himself this is only a fitting session. It's nothing more. And Yuuri is just a tailor... who has his heart within the palm of his hand and has put a good dozen of needles into it the night before.

It's easy. Right?

When Yuuri's skin first touches Victor's bare shoulder as he slides the bare frame of a dark navy blue shirt onto him, Victor shivers despite trying not to. He can't help it, not really. Yuuri's hands are warm when they press the shirt out on his back so that no wrinkles settle into the material. Victor knew how badly he's missed that gentle touch, but it hits him double-force now, and even harder still when he remembers that Yuuri doesn't want to be close to him anymore.

He needs to take a deep breath to get rid of the ache that suddenly churns in his chest, but even as he does, it isn't entirely gone.

"Try not to move," Yuuri mutters softly from behind him as he pins in the sleeves into the armscye.

"Sorry."

Chided, Victor stills. It's a hard thing to do, staying still, when Yuuri is so close to him that he can smell the sharp musk of his cologne with every breath. Victor closes his eyes just as Yuuri moves to work on the front part, because looking at him like this – at the tiny wrinkle of focus on Yuuri's nose, the furrowed eyebrows, the bitten, dry lips – it's too much temptation, too much agony after everything. And Victor has never been a man of patience, nor has he been a man of virtue.

He's been selfish, he always has. Even now he's being selfish.

Yuuri wanted to end things. He must have thought about it, he must have made up his mind. And Victor just took that decision from him, because he's a selfish, selfish man, who begged him to reconsider as if Yuuri's feelings weren't valid at all.

Is that not what horrible men do?

"Do you think I'm selfish?" Victor whispers when Yuuri adjusts his collar and slides his hands over Victor's shoulder.

Brown eyes flit up to look into his for a moment, but then Yuuri goes back to work. A good few seconds pass before he answers.

"Yes," he says. "Aren't we all, though? We're human, Victor. It's in our nature to want things."

"What if it's not some _thing_ I want, but some _one_?"

Victor keeps looking at him, but Yuuri doesn't meet his eyes again. It hurts, a little too much, if Victor's to be honest, but he ignores it in favour of hearing Yuuri's reply.

Did he think of what Victor's asked him last night? Did he hold any hope for them, still?

Without a word, Yuuri plies back the shirt off of Victor's body. His fingers are careful and no pin scratches Victor's skin, but he'd much rather have that than the silence Yuuri's lack of reply creates. As if he himself is sitting on pins and needles, Victor waits for him to say something.

And he waits a long while, because Yuuri is quiet when he works, and he's focused, and he's brilliant. Victor almost doesn't want to break the moment. Just watching Yuuri would be enough, but–

No. It isn't enough.

Because Victor is selfish, and he wants more than he is given.

It's only when Yuuri puts the all of the shirt back on his work table, does he answer Victor's question. His back is still turned to Victor and Victor can't make out his expression from that, or from his voice.

"There is a difference between selfishness and cruelty, Victor. Selfishness is just wanting things, but cruelty... cruelty is going for it regardless of the outcome or other people's feelings."

If Yuuri's voice has been quiet before now, it gets even more hushed and downright pleading when he whispers: "Please, don't be cruel."

And to Victor, that tiny whispered plea is exactly the same sound as the one his heart makes as it breaks.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [alexander mcqueen fall 2018 tied robe](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/alexander-mcqueen/slideshow/collection#30)  
> [alexander mcqueen fall 2018 long jacket](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/alexander-mcqueen/slideshow/collection#27)  
> [emporio armani fall 2018 velour jacket](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/emporio-armani/slideshow/collection#66)
> 
>  
> 
> did someone say 'let's end this' or did I hear wrong? uwu
> 
> also, about victor's reason for not showing up for yuuri's fashion week show bc I know you guys have been wondering and it was never explicitly explained: it was work. it was always work. work is the enemy of romance.  
> victor, of course, apologized profusely with a dinner and flowers and kisses (a whole lot of them), and yuuri forgave him bc we all know how kind yuuri is. and then... all this happened. 
> 
> I hope yall are in for a ride bc we're about to get into some pretty crazy stuff here ;3c
> 
> see you soon! ~~if you don't kill me for this chapter that is~~
> 
> (also, I actually just now realized that I completely fucked up the messaging colours and victor's mesages should be blue and yuuri's gray DUH oh my god kill me now I need a fucking break rydxcyuhbvg ~~I promise I'll fix them as soon as I can~~ )


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

 

 

Having Victor Nikiforov on his knees before him should be more thrilling than it is, Yuuri thinks to himself, but then he has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at how absurd that thought sounds even in the confines of his mind. He _could_ have Victor Nikiforov on his knees in every way he could possibly want, after all. Victor would gladly oblige, as proven by his actions the night before.

If Yuuri asked for it, that is.

The problem, however, is that Yuuri doesn't want to ask. He doesn't _want_ to want to ask.

Victor has been his first... everything.

Lover, love, someone to hold onto and someone to dream with.

And he– he didn't exactly betray Yuuri. It isn't that dramatic, what happened between them. It's just life and obligations, work and imbalance of priorities. The lawyers often call it 'differences in character', and while Yuuri can admit that he and Victor definitely are not alike in that matter, it's hard to apply something that sounds so matter-of-factly to the growing heartache in his chest.

The truth remains the truth, though. Victor put his work above their relationship.

He was right to do so, Yuuri doesn't blame him for it. Their collection was a spur of the moment decision, which neither of them thought through well enough to consider the possible setbacks, and by the time they did it was too late to cancel. Things were set in motion and, as such, they needed to come through.

Yuuri was happy to take the bulk of the work onto his own shoulders, seeing as Victor was trying to tie up all the loose ends at VN, and he hoped that maybe that would change things. Maybe that will allow Victor to breathe a little.

It didn't.

Instead, Victor threw himself into another project – starting up his own fashion magazine. Yuuri supported him wholeheartedly, but when that support was met with more and more complaining in the sparse moments of peace they stole away to talk on the phone, even Yuuri's hope had been chipped at. And, little by little, it withered and waned.

The distance between them grew bigger every day, until one day Yuuri finally realized that it was all pointless. He was holding onto a straw of hope for a relationship that would never truly work.

He remembers Paris, how happy being with Victor had made him. But he also remembers the moment he spoke the three most intimate words directed at Victor who made him so, so happy, and he remembers the silence that followed them, too. And, yes, he will miss the sweetness of those few days before with his whole heart, and deep down he will love Victor for it forever, he knows, but... it's time to make this right. He can't go on like this anymore and–

They were never going to work anyway.

So the moment they meet again face to face, Yuuri decides to end both of their suffering. It's better that way. Victor deserves better. He deserves someone who can lessen his burden, not double it, like Yuuri has done with this silly, half-assed collection...

And it was clear to him the moment he laid his eyes on Victor – on his slightly sullen cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes that he didn't even bother to cover with concealer, the hair that looked less than perfect – it was time to stop this.

Now, when Yuuri looks down at the kneeling Victor, who is taking the inseam measurements for Yuuri's trousers, which need to be slimmed down from all the weight loss Yuuri's gone through the past weeks of stress, Yuuri can't help noticing all those things again, but he also takes note of more. Things that he hasn't really seen when they first talked in Yuuri's hotel room.

Like, how Victor's hands tremble slightly when they smooth out the material on Yuuri's thighs, or how his cheeks dust with peony pink whenever he stretches the measuring tape near Yuuri's crotch.

It's all strictly professional, yes, but there's history between them, there's unresolved tension, too, and neither of them is immune to it, it seems.

Yuuri loves Victor, it's no secret. And maybe, judging by how hard Victor has fought against Yuuri's decision, maybe he feels something for Yuuri, too. His hooded eyes and lips parted on a soundless breath should be proof enough, but Yuuri doesn't let himself believe that – he can't. Not after everything...

They can't go down that road, not this time.

"You've lost weight, haven't you?" Victor asks.

His voice is soft like the touch of his hands has always been, but Yuuri feels it like a red-hot iron against his skin. He suppresses a flinch and looks away. He can't stand to see the disappointment in Victor's eyes, the accusation, the–

"I'm sorry," Victor mumbles, stopping Yuuri's mind before it falls down the rabbit hole of self-hatred. "It's my fault, isn't it? I pushed you too hard. You did most of the work on this collection and I haven't even said thank you yet. I'm literally the worst."

The  fervent "I did what I wanted to do. This collection was my idea, so what's wrong with me doing the bulk of it?" on the tip of Yuuri's tongue is stopped by the little smile Victor gives. It's so self-deprecating and nasty that Yuuri's breath completely disappears from his lungs.

He opens his mouth, dumbstruck, but no sound comes out.

That smile... it looks so much like Yuuri's own when his dark thoughts get the better of him.

"No wonder you want to break up with me," Victor says without even looking at him.

To Yuuri, it feels like a slap in the face.

"That is definitely _not_ why." He grits his teeth. "Don't go putting words in my mouth, please. And..." Yuuri takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm down the vivid anger that makes his vision blurry. "...let's not talk about this now, okay? Focus on the work. Until the show is over, let's just... let's just work."

Victor's smile doesn't reach his eyes, and it's sad, a little mocking, but he replies with, "Sure. Whatever you want, Yuuri," which feels like a big, fat lie, but Yuuri doesn't call him out on it.

It's seems easier to breathe when they work on their pieces separately, but to be honest – it isn't. Victor's presence is always there at the back of Yuuri's mind, and Victor himself is always there at the table behind him. They work well together, in silence and focus, and Yuuri doesn't mind sharing his work space with Victor as long as they keep it strictly work-related.

When Victor asks for scissors, because his have a habit of growing out legs and running away from him, Yuuri passes him his own. Their fingers brush, very much unlike in those romantic movies where an electric current passes between love interests – there is no such thing here. There isn't, but Yuuri can't help rubbing his fingers for a moment as if that ghost of a touch has left a mark on his skin, nonetheless.

It's subconscious, really.

When he loses the navy thread among the scrap fabrics, and Victor fishes it out for him while Yuuri keeps on sewing in the pesky buttons, there is no other explanation he can come up with. No other way to explain why he blushes when Victor licks the end of the thread and puts it into the eye of a needle, which he then hands back to Yuuri.

It's such a natural thing to do, something Yuuri has seen so many times before. Something he'd done himself before over and over again. There is nothing romantic about it, nothing sexual.

And yet, when Victor comes over to help him with something, or when he asks for Yuuri's opinion or help, it feels so... intimate. So personal. So _me_ and _him_ , us... _them_ , that Yuuri can't help but shiver.

"I love the lapels," Victor tells him at some point when he stops next to Yuuri's dress form. The jacket that hangs on it is one of those long ones, double-breasted and finely sewn together. Yuuri likes it, too. "They're bold. Especially with the pinstripes. It's a daring combination, if I've ever seen any, and I have a feeling this will be an instant hit."

"Thanks," Yuuri mumbles from where he's putting the pants together, leg by leg. "I hope it'll go over well. I'd hate to put you in a position where you have to defend my questionable tastes."

"You don't need to worry about me, Yuuri. And... what questionable tastes?" Victor lifts an eyebrow at him. "You're a brilliant designer, Yuuri. The whole world agrees on that."

"I'm an _avant-garde_ designer, Victor. This," he points to the collection spread over the front of the room, "isn't what I usually do. Or what I'm comfortable with. You know that."

"And because you aren't comfortable with it, it's even more impressive!" Victor injects. "Really, Yuuri. You created all these beautiful looks all on your own. You _can_ be happy with them. I know I am."

For a second there, Yuuri wants to ask if Victor really means it, but the moment he looks up from his work, he sees those blue eyes directed at him, and he knows. Victor means every word of it.

There's a softness around his eyes, something that is lacking in the smile he offers Yuuri when their gazes meet. It's hard to know what that is, but Yuuri has a feeling it's that same thing that aches painfully in his chest every time he looks at Victor. It's love. And it's there, right in Victor's eyes, soft and tired, but still there and still ready for Yuuri to–

As if he was once again a teenager in front of his idol, receiving praise for the first time ever, Yuuri blushes and drops his gaze down to his hands.

"Thank you," he says, oh so quietly.

In just the same tone, Victor replies: "No need. I am only speaking the truth, after all. I love your work, Yuuri. Always have, always will."

But to Yuuri, Victor's words sound like a mockery of a whole different confession. One which he'll never get, one which he doesn't deserve.

 

 

 

 

December 31st is the official date of their show, but truthfully, the event will be starting well into the night, so that the first look goes down the runway exactly at the stroke of midnight on January the 1st, marking the beginning of the new year, new era, new lives of all those involved.

The idea is something Victor has chosen back when they could still see themselves starting their own lives together, but now it sits like lead in Yuuri's stomach. The closer to Monday it comes, the worse Yuuri's nausea and nerves fare, and nothing can be done about it. All he is left with is to suck it up and get on with the work that still needs to be done – which is what Yuuri tries to do, but it all comes at a price.

He's finished Victor's suit by Thursday, the turtleneck by Friday, and the weekend he spends on the mask. He'd promised it to Victor a while back, and since this is a show of _their_ collection, there will never be a better occasion than to have him wear it alongside their crown achievement.

So, painstakingly, Yuuri puts crystal after crystal onto the frame, glues them to the fabric and adds the fresh, beautiful violets and bright orange feathers to wrap Victor's face in an artful crown,  worthy of his fame and looks. Yuuri's fingers sting from where he's burnt them with hot glue, his skin peels in nasty bits from the already aged burns, too, but when Yuuri slides the mask onto Victor's face right before lunch on Sunday, he feels like it all doesn't even matter.

Victor is beautiful. 

Yuuri brushes his thumbs across his cheeks, where the mask is ending, and smoothes his hair back to let it sit properly. All it takes is a moment, a fleeting blink in time, but to Yuuri the air around them suddenly feels like an endless autumn evening in Paris, when the sun warmed his skin like Victor's closeness does now.

"Can I see?" Victor asks timidly once Yuuri snaps out of it, and all Yuuri can give him is a nod of consent. He doesn't trust his words, not now.

Victor takes a few steps to the mirror. He's quiet in his admiration, so quiet that Yuuri doesn't know what to think. He's heard Victor's adoring gasps, little laughs of admiration, free and plentiful praises... But a quiet Victor? Yuuri can't tell if he hates the mask that much or if he just hates Yuuri. Both could be an option, but Yuuri is too much a coward to ask for clarification, so he stays silent and still, and he waits like a fool for any scraps of feedback Victor wills to offer.

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor finally sighs. He lifts a hand to the mask, touches the feathers, the soft flowers ever so lightly. "This is stunning... I don't feel like I deserve to wear this."

"I made it for you," Yuuri replies, but it isn't much of a reply when it doesn't really relate to anything previously said, no?

Blushing, Yuuri looks down at his hands. A particular patch of dried glue catches his eye, so he picks at it to give some leave to his already frayed nerves.

"I mean," he breathes, "I made it for you, with you in mind. Nothing less would be appropriate."

"Is this how you see me?"

Victor turns around and Yuuri, damn him, lifts his gaze up. It's his first mistake.

Victor looks at him with softness in his eyes, which peer through the mask in stark contrast to the violets and the orange feathers. They're blue, startingly blue, yet warm. Two beautiful gems hidden among crystals.

Yuuri's heart aches.

"How I see you...?"

"As this... beautiful, colourful thing," Victor supplies. "Something to be admired, something to be... desired, maybe?"

Yuuri's second mistake is the blush that deepens on his cheeks at those words.

He can't really help it, it's a natural reaction to the way Victor's lips quirk as his last words leave his mouth. Yuuri knows this smile well. He's seen it before, he's felt it against his heated skin... And now, it serves just as well to make his heart quicken its wild pacing in his chest, because there's a light of hope in Victor's smile, and Yuuri would be a big, fat liar if he said that it doesn't awaken the same kind of hope in him.

"Of course I do," Yuuri replies honestly. "You are all of these things. Anyone with eyes can see that."

"Do you see that?" Victor presses, stepping up closer to him. "Is that how _you_ see me, too, Yuuri? Even after everything?"

It's impossible to resist the pull of Victor's body, the warmth that comes from him. He shifts closer to Yuuri, stands within a hand's reach. Yuuri could touch him if he wanted to. Victor could touch him if he wanted to.

They both stand still, though, frozen within each other's gaze as the air around them shifts into something neither of them can control.

"What is it you want to hear from me, Victor?" Yuuri asks.

His voice is trembling, he realizes, but a second later he knows he's wrong. It isn't his voice that's trembling – it's him.

"Do you want to hear that I still admire you? That you're still my idol? That I still–"

– _love you_.

He pauses for a breath, ignores the hot sting at his eyes, and spits: "Well, I do, alright?!"

His third mistake is this: anger, helplessness, daring courage that comes with both. Or maybe it's just his recklessness, or his pride. Or maybe Yuuri is just tired of feeling lonely and forgotten.

He steps up to Victor and lifts his hands to pull the mask off.

He's done with this. With everything. After this show is over, he will finally be able to bring back a semblance of peace into his life. And until it's over, he only needs to–

Victor catches his hands before Yuuri can touch the mask. He brings them both to his cheeks, places Yuuri's palms on his skin. It's warm, it's soft. It's such a loving gesture that Yuuri automatically pulls back, but Victor doesn't let him: his fingers tighten on Yuuri's wrists, and as if they've seeped poison into his veins, Yuuri feels all the fight leaving him within a single breath.

"Do you still love me, Yuuri?" Victor whispers.

His breath fans over Yuuri's eyelashes, and Yuuri blinks his eyes shut, unable to look at him any longer. Because if Victor sees the truth in his eyes, he'll know. He'll know how badly Yuuri wants him, and how badly Yuuri can't have him...

"You already know the answer to that," Yuuri whispers back.

He's avoiding saying it out right, he is. But after what happened the last time, who could blame him for it? It still stings, smarts at his heart like a fresh new wound every time he thinks of his unrequited feelings. To speak of it out loud now of all times could only ever be worse.

Victor seems to care very little for Yuuri's pain, though.

"I want to hear you say it," Victor asks again. "Please. Just this once. If you truly–"

"I love you," Yuuri cuts him off. He glares at him and squeezes his hands around Victor's face. "I still love you, yes! And I probably will for a long time. Does that make you happy?! To know that I'm enough of an idiot to love you even after everything?!"

Forcefully, he rips his hands away and steps back. He can't look at Victor anymore. The gash that has been reopened right across his heart, hurts enough to push his anger towards the surface.

"It does!"

Victor catches his arm. Yuuri whirls in place to face him and probably tell him off, but Victor quickly lets him go to take off the mask and rest it on a nearby table, and Yuuri's words settle on his tongue just like that. Even after everything, he still doesn't want to hurt Victor like he himself is hurting now.

What an idiot he is...

"It makes me incredibly happy, Yuuri," Victor tells him then. "Because I believed in us for so long, and this, your feelings, they're the proof that I wasn't wrong!"

Slowly, Victor takes a step closer and, just as carefully, lifts a hand to Yuuri's own face. Yuuri wants to avoid it, but oddly enough, his heart tells him to stay. So he stays, and he lets Victor run his thumb down his cheek, to his chin, his lips. Even when Victor leans forward to rest his forehead against Yuuri's, Yuuri stays still. Beautiful blue eyes are wordlessly pleading with him and Yuuri is too much of a dreamer to ignore it, so he stays through all of it.

They are close enough to kiss, and the desire to slide his lips against Victor's is more than Yuuri can handle, but he stays and–

"I love you, too," Victor whispers the three words that Yuuri has been yearning to hear for so long.

Yuuri gasps, shocked, despite having seen the evidence of it in Victor's gaze before. But Victor isn't done yet. He keeps talking, and Yuuri – with his heart beating madly in his throat – stays frozen and listens.

"I have loved you, all this time. Every day we've been apart, every second I couldn't see you – it was a torture, but I still loved you. I _still_ love you, Yuuri. And I promise you that after all of this is over I will–"

Yuuri believes him. He does. And there lies his problem.

"It's not that easy, Victor," Yuuri says back, trembling as much as his voice does. "I told you before, didn't I? You may love me, but you love your work even more. And it's fine, I get it. I understand. But we just... we aren't good for each other, Victor."

Gently this time, Yuuri pulls down Victor's hand from his own face.

"After the work is done, there will never be enough of you and me left to make _us_ ," he says, resigned.

"Isn't it enough that we love each other?" Victor presses. "Isn't it enough that we'll be together?"

As he steps back, putting inevitable distance between them, Yuuri gives a little humourless laugh that sounds even more broken to his ears than his heart is, where it lies crumbled among the pieces of his shattered love.

"We've done that for months now and look where it got us," Yuuri says. "It's not really love, is it?"

When Victor doesn't say anything to that, Yuuri smiles the most bitter of smiles.

"Thank you for trying," he tells Victor. "But it's enough. You should find your happiness, Victor. I don't want to keep you from it."

And then he leaves, because it's the only thing he can do. He doesn't want to see the crushed look on Victor's face, or his own reflection in one of the work room mirrors. That... that would be too much on his already full plate of heartbreak that he needs to swallow.

After all, the show must go on, no?

 

 

 

 

The models walk in perfect harmony with the music and each other, the lights follow them as they are supposed to, and Yuuri has nothing to complain about. When it comes to the organizational part of the event, that is.

Victor is backstage with the crew, watching over that part of the pre-run, but even when Yuuri can't see him, he can't stop thinking about him.

Because the truth is: he doesn't want to.

He's pushing Victor away, because it needs to be done for both of their sakes, but his heart... Yuuri knows that it will never be the same after all of this is over. It's already crying, it's already broken, but after he and Victor part ways for good, Yuuri believes that it will shrivel up in his chest like it never has before. And it will stay that way, forever.

It's too hard to hope that he will ever be able to find someone again to make him feel like Victor has done. It's impossible.

Still, all this needs to be done. There is no future for them, nothing that could convince him that the heartache of the last months was worth suffering longer. Not even hearing Victor say those three words Yuuri wanted to hear since Paris – right now they feel empty and downright cruel, and Yuuri can't accept them this way.

He doesn't notice when the lights stop flashing, but he does notice when Phichit jumps off the catwalk to come up to him. He blinks out of his thoughts, surprised to find his eyes slightly wet, and wipes them quickly with his hand.

"You okay?" Phichit asks, concern in his voice.

Yuuri gives him a tired smile. "Yeah, it's just far too bright for my sleep-deprived eyes."

Phichit seems to buy it. Or maybe he doesn't, because he's Yuuri's best friend and he knows him better than Yuuri knows himself, sometimes. With a sighs, Phichit slips an arm around him and Yuuri lets himself be hugged close to his side.

"Well get through this and then you can take a longass break and sleep for a week," Phichit says, squeezing Yuuri's shoulders. "I'll talk with Ciao Ciao for you. I'm sure he won't mind. You earned it."

"Thanks." Yuuri smiles again, but this time it's a little more genuine. "I could use a break. But first, we need to get you out of these clothes."

"And we need to get through the show," Phichit reminds him. As if Yuuri could forget.

They arrive backstage together to an utter chaos of models, stylists and helpers. It's a controlled chaos, still, and Yuuri feels right back at home among these people, even if he doesn't know them all that well. In a somewhat secluded corner, he helps Phichit with the delicately draped silk wrap shirt, which winds around his chest not unlike a fine braid. It's a tricky one, but Yuuri is proud of it, like he is proud of the entire collection – it is a work well done, after all.

"You can do the pants, right?" Yuuri asks Phichit, trying to spot a free hanger to leave the shirt on so it doesn't wrinkle in all the wrong places right before the show.

"Now, if I ever need someone's help getting out of a pair of pants, it wouldn't be you." Phichit wags his finger at Yuuri with a playful grin. "I can find myself a perfect pair of hands to help me out, don't you worry."

Yuuri only rolls his eyes and leaves him to it. He finds a hanger, and while he's slipping it on near the clothing rack, _he smells her_ before he even sees her. The distinct scent of Black Opium hits him in the nose with an intensity of a drug, so when she actually speaks, Yuuri needs to blink out of it by force to focus on her actual words.

"I don't think you're a bad person, Yuuri," Mila says with no greeting whatsoever, but she's someone who doesn't need a greeting, to be honest. "I helped you out with your show, and you kept your word and introduced me to Sara. We're even."

Yuuri nods in agreement, unsure of where this is going.

"We're even, although..."

Mila pauses and looks at something behind Yuuri. He follows her gaze, and sure enough – he finds Victor there, plying their wolf blue peacoat off of one of the other models. His silver hair is swiped to the side, showing off his pale cheek and the dark, dark circles under his eyes, which he didn't even bother to hide yet.

"You're hurting him," Mila tells him as if Yuuri wasn't already so intimately aware. "You have been hurting him for a while, but he hasn't spoken about it at all to any of us. It's like he's locked himself in this impenetrable bubble and he's suffering all alone."

"Well," Yuuri clears his throat and looks away, "he isn't the only one hurting."

"Then do something about it!" Mila hisses at him, suddenly angry. "If you're both miserable then get together and talk about this. Fix it!"

Yuuri's lips twitch in a parody of a bitter smile, but he's too tired to keep it up.

"If it was that easy, we already would've done it, don't you think?" And before Mila can reply, he asks: "Do you need help with your clothes?"

She gives him a look, one that Yuuri pointedly ignores, and turns around so he can help her with the leather jacket that sits on her like second skin.

"Do you love him?" she asks all of a sudden.

Yuuri takes a breath so sharp that he's sure she can hear it.

"It isn't that easy, Mila," he tells her.

"It never is in this industry," she agrees, but when she turns, her eyes are even harder than before. "But if you give up before you even fight for it, then you will regret it for the rest of your life. Not to mention, he might never forgive you for it."

"I'd rather have that, than him hating me because I made him pick me over his work."

Yuuri pulls the jacket off all the way and hangs it on the rack next to Phichit's shirt while Mila puts her top back on. She then takes off the kilt skirt and hands it to Yuuri.

"Is that the reason you're both tiptoeing around each other?" she asks. "Work? Because you should know what his plans are, no? He won't be in this for much longer."

"But he still will be involved, Mila." Yuuri sighs, a small irritated sound. "He'll have issue after issue to prepare, and where do you think that will leave us between his schedule and mine? It will be just a repeat of the last few months. There isn't really much to do about it but go our separate ways. He can be happy with someone who can give him what I can't."

Mila sighs at that, too.

"Okay, look. Let me tell you something, because I don't think you'll understand me otherwise." She looks him in the eye, and says: "Sara and I are dating. Unofficially, as of yet, but it's only a matter of time. And it's largely thanks to you for introducing us, so I feel like I owe it to you to tell it how it is, because watching you two idiots tiptoe around each other is beginning to grate on everyone's nerves."

She takes a breath, steps up close, and smacks Yuuri in the chest with her palm. It smarts like hell, but Yuuri is far too surprised that she did it to really feel the pain.

"You're an idiot," Mila tells him, harsh. "If you want to see him, you _go and see him_. If you love him, you _go and see him_. If he says he's busy all day, _go see him_ and _take him lunch_ , because you can be sure he'll forget to eat. And if you're busy, tell him you love him, and send him some goddamn flowers or chocolates, so that he knows you're thinking of him even when you're busy. Don't just wait for him to make the first move. It's a relationship. He isn't the only one in it – you are, too!"

She crosses her arms on her chest, and taps her foot on the floor once. "That's what I do when I can't be with her, because of course I can't! And she can't either! Our work is hard, Yuuri, no one is disputing that. But we make do with what we have, because we're _in love_. We make it work, because we want to be together. We make sacrifices, and we make gestures, because if we don't then we'll all end up sad and alone."

The look on her face changes, strikes something colder in the blue of her eyes.

"So if you say that it's just too hard, then maybe the love you claim to have for him isn't really anything that special, hmm?"

It doesn't feel like a lightning came crashing down on him from the high heavens, not at all. Yet Yuuri's chest hurts, where Mila had hit him, and deeper – in his very heart, too.

Because he realizes that she's right, that she really is right, and he has just been expecting so much from Victor, but... what did he offer him in return? What did he do to try to fix this before it all fell into ruin? Before he convinced himself that it was impossible to love someone so much and be _with him,_ but without him?

"Get a fucking grip, Katsuki," Mila tells him then, harsh and, for the first time since he's known her, with a heavy Russian lilt to her words. "Victor deserves better than some coward who isn't even willing to fight for what he loves."

"Now that's a little harsh, don't you think?"

Yuuri is so surprised at Phichit's sudden appearance by his side that he jumps and squeaks, but before he can recover from the harsh buzzing of blood in his ears at the revelation Mila's talkdown brought, Phichit's already glaring daggers into Mila and Mila is doing her Ice Queen pose, where she's looking down at him like he's some vermin at the soles of her VN high heels, and Yuuri can do nothing but watch it all escalate out of his hands.

"If we're speaking of cowards then isn't it the same for Victor?" Phichit points out. "He could have gotten 'a fucking grip', too. Don't just go around throwing baseless accusations at people like that."

Mila lifts an eyebrow at him. "It's hardly baseless when they both walk around like zombies and can't even look each other in the eye without one of them looking like he wants to cry."

The slight shift of Phichit's head is the only indication that he might agree with her words.

"Be that as it may, you shouldn't press Yuuri to do something he doesn't want to do," he says. "It's still his choice. And whatever issues he and Victor have, they aren't yours to fix."

"If they can't get their shit together, then they _are_ mine to fix," Mila announces. "I will not stand by and watch them both ruin their lives, and for what? Idiocy. That's what."

When Phichit's jaw clicks shut and a sharp, sharp smile replaces his until now hostile glaring, Yuuri knows he needs to step in. Bloodshed on the day of their big show would not be good publicity. No matter what PR says.

"I, for one, don't appreciate being gossiped about behind my back at my own show," Victor's slightly chilly voice cuts into their argument before Yuuri can get a word in. "If you're both finished taking off your runway clothes, you're free to take it elsewhere, but under this roof I don't want to hear another word about this. Got it?"

Phichit and Mila both give him their most menacing glares, but they leave without starting another fight. Phichit squeezes Yuuri's arm once, and Mila throws him a warning glance, but neither of them says anything more.

Victor, however, doesn't go. He stays, and the look he gives Yuuri is almost worse than standing between Mila and Phichit has been. It isn't hard to see the concern and hurt in his eyes from this close.

Guilt stings at Yuuri's heart far more than Mila's slap did, so he looks away, just to avoid–

"Are you okay?" Victor asks gently.

"Y-Yeah," Yuuri mumbles. "I'm fine."

"Good."

Victor offers him a smile, a small, small thing that is forced, but... but it's honest. There is hurt in that smile and there is sadness there, hidden in the familiar curl of Victor's lips. And yet, Victor still offers it to him, because he chooses to be open, he chooses to trust Yuuri and to love him still, even when Yuuri keeps pushing him away.

Yuuri's heart aches, but he quickly realizes that it's a different than what it has been before. This ache... This is longing. This is guilt. This is everything he wants, but is too afraid to fight for.

Mila's words echo in his mind like a beehive of truth.

Yuuri is an idiot, a coward, a selfish, selfish man. But he is in love with Victor Nikiforov. And Victor Nikiforov, the one who smiles with his whole heart be it in happiness or in pain, he deserves better than what Yuuri has given him until now. Yuuri still thinks he deserves better than Yuuri, period, but if Victor is resolved... if Victor really wants Yuuri, then...

At least, he deserves for Yuuri to try his hardest, too. Which he hasn't done yet, not by a mile.

"I'll see you before the show," Victor says as a goodbye, and Yuuri watches him leave, suddenly more terrified of this, them, than the show itself.

Because... it isn't too late yet, he knows. The pain in Victor's eyes, the sadness in his smile... It all points towards one thing: he's honest about his love, and he's honest about still wanting to be with Yuuri. And if he is, then it isn't too late for Yuuri to do what Mila told him to. To do all those things Yuuri has pushed onto Victor, when he should've taken half of them onto his back.

It's a shared responsibility, a relationship. It goes both ways, and both parties need to try, or it won't work. And the reason they didn't work is because of Yuuri. Not Victor, but _him._

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Yuuri makes up his mind and steels his heart.

He can fix this, right? It isn't too late. If he tries, if he does his best, he can still–

He can still fix this... right?

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [pinstriped suit](http://www.thesartorialist.com/photos/on-the-street-the-combination-milano/)   
> [fairy headpiece mask](https://www.elvendesignart.com/fairy-headpiece-mask.html) which yuuri makes for victor to wear
> 
>  
> 
> well then! off we go to the brighter tomorrow... or will it be even darker still, I wonder? ;3c


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, I never thought you guys would be so heated about whose fault it actually is that victor and yuuri can't get their shit together bc I expected everyone to be mad at vitya first and then be mad at yuuri in return for him ending things, but it seems some of you are still mad at vitya and others mad at mila for overstepping, and some still mad at yuuri, and wow am I enjoying all of this immensely ;3c 
> 
> can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!!

 

 

 

 

It's hard. God, it's so hard. Harder than anything Victor had ever done in his life, and he has been through some hard things, honestly.

But standing there in plain sight, right in front of the cameras flashing and rolling and following his every move, while he has to keep up a cheerful smile and an arm looped around Yuuri, and the other ready for handshakes, Victor doesn't remember it ever being this hard.

It isn't exactly the situation that makes it so, no. It's the fact that Yuuri looks stunning in Victor's suit, that his mask sits so delicately on his face it seems like it's a cloud of smoke embellished with a dazzling blue gem that brings forth the red of the frame from below the black lace.

He's beautiful. He's _gorgeous_.

And yet, this is the only time Victor still gets to touch him and be close – right before the cameras, because all of this is a lie. _They_ are a lie.

Victor can't allow his smile to slip, so he turns his head away from where the stream of guests is coming through to just breathe for a second. But from what matters most, he can't seem to be able to run away at all. No matter how hard he tries.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri whispers to him, waving at someone in the crowd.

His smile fades slightly when he shifts his eyes to Victor for a moment, and it's a precious second to Victor's heart where he sees concern in that gaze, but it's gone just as fast when Sara Crispino comes over to say hello.

Victor swallows his reply, shakes her hand politely, and does the same with her brother, who follows along with a glare and a scowl that no one ever knows the reason for.

"You can go backstage and check up on the models if you'd like," Yuuri offers, back with a concerned gaze. "There aren't many more people we're expected to greet, so I can handle it on my own."

It sounds like dismissal, but it also sounds like Yuuri caring for Victor's wellbeing. As if, maybe, he's noticed that Victor looks just a little on the pale side and he's worried. As if, maybe, there's still a part of him that cares enough about Victor to be worried.

But that couldn't be it, could it?

Victor sneaks a glance at him, but the mask on Yuuri's face covers up any expression he could be making, so Victor can't know for sure. Guessing would do him no good either, because what his heart and mind want to see are two different things, and Victor is too big of a fool to know which one to trust.

So he nods. And he rests his hand briefly on Yuuri's shoulder.

"I'll do that then," he says. He checks the time on his watch. "There's an hour left till we start, so make sure you're there before then."

"Got it."

It's a relief to escape the direct eye of the public, but it seems that complete relief is not written in the stars for Victor that night. When he finally makes his way through the rushing stylists and models, he finds no one other than his best friend with a camera in his hands and a big, big grin on his face.

A grin which only widens once he spots Victor.

"And here's the man of the hour!" Chris sings, pulling Victor into the shot. "Say hi to our audience back in their homes!"

Victor gives a little wave and a smile, which he's sure looks half as happy as he intends it to be. He's just not feeling good enough to smile...

"We got this wonderful idea last minute to livestream the backstage of the show on our page," Chris explains. "And from the number of the views, I think people like it! So, are there any special words you'd like to share with us before the acclaimed collaboration of VN and Yuugen goes out on the runway, Mr. Nikiforov?"

"Special words, hmm?"

Victor hums. He has been interviewed about seven times today and countless others over the week, so he knows what to say word by word, but repeating all that would be too much of a chore right now.

"I'm sure you all have already heard the goals and inspiration behind this collection, so I won't bore you with all that. Instead, I will tell you this: feast your eyes, brace your hearts and enjoy the moment, because you can never know when it'll be your last."

"Ohh, so cryptic!" Chris makes a face at the camera, but his arm around Victor's shoulders tightens as if to lend him some support, which he can't voice in front of their audience. "Seems like working with Yuurgen shrouded VN in our own brand of mystery! How exciting!"

He looks at his phone when it starts to flash madly, and he laughs.

"And now our stream chat is blowing up with speculations as to what it all could mean, wow! You sure do know how to get people riled up, don't you, Victor?"

Victor only forces on a grin and throws a wink at the camera. "Have fun everyone! And thanks for your support, as always!"

He leaves Chris alone before he can be roped into more of this game of pretend, and throws himself into the middle of work. Checking everything piece by piece was never something he liked doing, not recently, but it's still better than thinking about Yuuri.

About Yuuri who smiles at him like he sees the goodness in Victor. About Yuuri who kisses him like he has always wanted to be kissed: slowly, lovingly, with so much care that Victor feels like his heart is going to burst. About Yuuri who loves him, and who keeps loving him even when Victor fucks up.

It's inevitable for Victor to think about him. It's inevitable for Victor to miss him. And, God, he misses him _so much_.

Victor is ready to admit that he's the one at fault here. He fucked up. He knows he did. He should've tried harder, he should've just stepped down without making a fuss and then, in his free time, he could've worked on building up his magazine. He should have put Yuuri first, he should've prioritized different things.

It'ss his fault that they're in this mess now and he has only himself to blame.

Still, he can't help but hurt at the thought that he will never again get to see Yuuri's eyes light up with that sweet flicker of love when he looks at him...

"Mr. Nikiforov?"

The call of his name snaps him out of his blind staring at Yuuri's kilt-like skirt. The red-black-white chequered print makes him slightly dizzy, and Victor has to forcefully blink away the imprint of it, when he looks up at the tech guy.

"The show starts in ten minutes."

Victor nods. "Good. Is Yuuri already here?"

"He's in makeup, but we're all set, sir. Just waiting for your word."

Victor nods again. "Then we'll start right on schedule."

Without further ado, the tech guy nods and directs the orders through the Bluetooth in his ear, but Victor is no longer listening. His eye catches on what his mind has been so preoccupied by, and the sight is beautiful.

 _Yuuri_ is beautiful.

He's always been beautiful, ever since Victor has first seen him, but this is the first time he's been allowed to see Yuuri so closely during a show, and he's enraptured by him even further. It isn't just his looks that make him so spectacular, though. He definitely looks the part, yes, but there is an air of humbleness around him. Something invisible, but tangible that everyone around can see.

Which is probably why Yuuri is the one the models turn to when he enters, and why the stylists ask him for advice more than Victor himself. It's... it's liberating, in a sense. Victor doesn't consider himself a guru on all things fashion, but for many people he is one, despite wanting to be or otherwise. So to see this new dynamic in place where people ask for Yuuri over him is oddly freeing. Victor is now void of the expectations that have always been resting on him, something he wanted for so long, but only got thanks to Yuuri.

And while it feels good, it does, Victor is on the brink of leaving this part of the industry behind. In that way, seeing Yuuri in the throes of it, and himself, standing as if on the outside, it feels a little bit lonely, too.

"Ready?"

Yuuri's voice brings Victor out of his musings. He blinks, first catching the glare of the blue gem in Yuuri's mask and only after that, the sweet gaze of Yuuri's warm, brown eyes.

"Where's your mask?" Yuuri asks, a frown curled around his lips.

"Huh?" Victor lifts a hand to touch his face. The mask isn't there, Yuuri is right. "Oh, I must have left it when they were doing touch-ups to my makeup before–"

"I'll get it right away!" one of the stylists volunteers, and runs off before either of them can say anything.

"Okay," Yuuri says. "We still have time, so it's fine."

"Yeah," Victor agrees, internally fighting a grimace at how awkward the air between them is.

He doesn't know what to say, what to do, so he lets his eyes roam in search of anything to keep himself occupied. And he finds something. But that something is a thing he shouldn't do, which he knows. He knows, and yet...

"Your tie is crooked," he tells Yuuri. "Can I...?"

He lifts his hand, only now realizing that his palms are sweating. It could be nerves or it could just be Yuuri's closeness, but Victor chooses to ignore it all as his eyes meet Yuuri's yet again.

Yuuri nods, a small little thing, which he follows with a soft, "Sure," that makes Victor's chest tremble as hard as his hands. He tries to cover it up, but Yuuri must notice it, right? If he does, he chooses not to comment on it, and keeps looking into Victor's face as if he's searching for something. What? Victor can't tell. And, frankly, after all that's happened these last few days, he isn't sure he wants to know. It... it already hurts too much without it.

Being this close to Yuuri, however, helps his nerves settle some. The trembling in his hands stops the moment he touches the knot of the tie. Calm like no other breathes into him from the warmth of the small space they share as they wait for the clock to tick past their set time.

It's crazy that even when they're at odds, Yuuri can bring so much peace to him, but then again... it really isn't all that strange. Yuuri is, after all, the only one whom Victor has felt like he could open up to.

And it sits right there on Victor's tongue as their eyes meet, only inches apart.

"Stop adjusting Yuuri's tie, Victor. It's fine! Everyone can see you’re just using it as an excuse to touch him, you horndog," Chris teases from somewhere behind them and Victor snatches his hands away from Yuuri's neck before he even thinks on it.

He completely forgot about everyone else in the crowded backstage while he was looking into Yuuri's beautiful eyes, because for a moment there he was sure he could see the longing and warmth in them: things he remembers so vividly from their trip to Paris. Things that give him foolish hope once again that maybe their love isn't a lost cause.

But even if Victor forgot about the entire world, the world hasn't forgotten about him. There's a camera in Chris' hands, still, so Victor forces himself to calm down his racing heart. He gives a little chuckle, just for the sake of it, but he's far from amused even as a blush settles on his cheeks. He can't believe he was about to–

"Can you blame me, though?" he cuts his own thoughts with forced playfulness. "Have you even seen how delicious Yuuri looks tonight? Who could resist such charm?"

The camera turns on Yuuri, and so does Victor's attention once more, and, _oh_ –

Yuuri's cheeks are flushed in a way that the mask sitting on his face doesn't entirely cover. He meets Victor's eyes for a second, but as soon as he does, he looks away. It's hard to tell why, but maybe, just, just maybe, Victor wasn't the only one affected by their proximity. Maybe his words did actually mean something to Yuuri, too. Maybe Victor was a fool to believe that Yuuri could just grow to hate him overnight, but–

"Should I maybe not wear the tie? It doesn’t seem to be able to sit right."

Yuuri plays along with the farce – because this is just that, a farce. A game they are forced to play for the public, who is not aware of the great chasm that sits between Victor and Yuuri, and their love.

"How about you try another one?" Phichit appears out of nowhere with a different tie that works just as well for Yuuri's look. "Here, Victor. Help him put it on."

It's as if both Phichit and Chris have ganged up on them, decided to make them suffer, and for what? For views? For some wild idea that this could, what? Somehow fix things that neither he nor Yuuri know how to fix?

Victor wants to laugh, bitterly.

But instead, he grabs the tie and, after a quick look at the countdown clock, he takes off Yuuri's tie with quick fingers. Yuuri's eyes are widened all the while he works and Victor can't tell why, but it's not the time to wonder. He does what he needs to, ties the new tie into a perfect knot, and slips the long end under Yuuri's jacket.

"There," he says when it's all done. "This might actually be better. Thanks, Phichit."

"Always a pleasure!" Phichit chirps with a wide grin. "But you know, if we're doing wardrobe changes, maybe you should change Yuuri's pants, too? They could be doing far more to bring out his assets–"

"Phichit," Yuuri hisses, while Chris laughs behind the camera.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what Yuugen and VN collab looks like," he tells the viewers. "If you were hoping for drama, there's none! Instead, there's an abundance of love, like you've just seen with your own eyes."

Victor prays for mercy.

Yuuri must be doing the same, because luck stands on their side this time and a tech guy's voice booms over the murmur of the crowd backstage:

"One minute till the show starts! Everyone in their places, please! Models to the left, staff to the back! Thank you!"

It's the cue for Chris to slink back away and for Phichit to line up in his place, and Victor breathes a deep sigh in relief. It comes as a complete surprise to him when he feels a warm hand at his lower back, steady and calming.

"We can do this," Yuuri tells him.

He offers Victor a smile, a small, but precious thing, which steals Victor's breath for a second there, but gives it back just as fast. Slightly dizzy, Victor bends his neck down when Yuuri offers to put his mask on him.

Just like the day before when he first tried it, Yuuri's fingers are gentle when they touch his hair, and Victor thinks to himself that Yuuri doesn't deserve this pain. He doesn't deserve what Victor has put him through. All that waiting, uncertainty, and now his desperate attempts at keeping alive a relationship that clearly doesn't work for them... Yuuri deserves someone who'd make him happy. Someone who wouldn't put him through things like that at all.

And that someone can't be him.

"Yuuri, I–"

"Victor–"

They both stop at once. Yuuri cracks a small smile at him, and Victor feels like his heart is breaking all over again, so he manages to choke out: "You first."

"I just wanted to say that after the show is over I want to talk to you," Yuuri says. "Is that... okay?"

And because Victor is a coward, and because his time is almost up, he nods his head and takes a mic from a tech guy, and doesn't say a word more.

It's hard to swallow, it's hard to breathe, and it's hard, so hard to see anything once they step onto the runway together to start off the show, but Yuuri takes Victor's hand, and even though he's a bloody coward and a weak, weak man who can't even put his beloved's happiness over his own selfish interests, Victor feels like he can do it this one last time.

Because Yuuri said so. And, even after everything, Victor trusts him.

"Good evening, everyone!"

He puts on a fake, fake smile, and squeezes Yuuri's hand. Yuuri squeezes back, and it's more than Victor could ask for.

"Welcome to the future! ...or so I'd say in about five minutes when we begin the show and, coincidentally," He winks, "the new year. I'm Victor Nikiforov and at my side is my lovely partner in crime and muse, Yuuri Katsuki," Yuuri takes a small bow, without letting go of his hand, which warms Victor's heart in ways he can't allow himself to think about now, "and together we would like to thank you for coming."

"Our inspiration for this spur-of-the-moment collection was ourselves," Yuuri picks up from where Victor stops. "It's that simple, and that complicated, all at once."

He looks at Victor and something bright shines in his eyes as they peer through his dark mask. It calls to Victor, and calls on his heart, too, which suddenly flutters in his chest as he listens to Yuuri speak in a soft, mellow voice that carries over the hall with an ambience that feels like a thrall.

"Victor and I. Our lives, styles, careers," Yuuri says. "The parts that shone bright over the years and the parts that were shrouded in darkness and, to many of you, in mystery."

Yuuri turns his gaze onto the audience. It should come as a relief to Victor, but somehow, once done, he begins to miss it dearly. Still, he can't allow himself to crumble there, so he pushes those feelings away as best as he can.

"Here, tonight, you will glimpse into what an inspired, creative mind can accomplish with the right support from loved ones and a small blessing from the Muses."

Yuuri falls silent, and it takes a moment for Victor to realize that that's his clue. He startles, suddenly aware he's lost focus, which Yuuri takes notice of, because of course he does. Warm fingers slide between Victor's and hold onto him like an anchor that allows him to think clearly among the murky waters of his swimming thoughts.

It's silly, but Victor... he doesn't feel much like himself at all when he lifts the microphone to his lips again. He feels like someone else in his body, a lost boy who doesn't know what he's doing there or how he got there, but he feels safe – because Yuuri is there to hold his hand and guide him through the fog akin to a will-o-wisp. To his doom or salvation, that remains to be seen, but as Victor takes a breath, he knows he will follow him to find out.

He will follow him anywhere, but... he should first let Yuuri roam free, shouldn't he?

"We hope that you enjoy what we created, and that you will keep your minds, wallets and hearts open to us and our current and future work," Victor finally says, forcing on a cheeky smile, which has very little reflection on his actual mood.

There's some laughter from the guests at his words, and that's good. That's very good.

They both take a quick bow and return backstage among the short applause that follows at their heels. Right on cue, once they descend the few steps leading up onto the catwalk, the music starts. They both quickly make their way to the tech section where all the cameras stationed around the premise pick up the footage of the runway.

It has begun.

The opening look is Victor's Eros, and it looks truly dangerous as it walks down the runway. The skirt flutters, shines, and the lace embellished with the big crystals stands out even more against the freckles of light that they leave all over the fabric. It's beautiful, and it moves just like Victor envisioned it: inspired on Yuuri and a tribute to him, in all his magnitude.

Victor couldn't be prouder of this, he thinks, but the moment he catches the awed look in Yuuri's eye when he turns his head, he's proven wrong – he can be prouder of it. _He is._

"That turned out so well, Victor," Yuuri praises him in a breathless voice. "Wow."

"It's only because of you that I was able to do that, Yuuri," Victor tells him. "You deserve that wow as well for that brilliant mind of yours and all the hours you put into making all of this happen."

And maybe it's just an adrenaline high, or the heat of the moment, but Victor can't shrug off the feeling that he can see in Yuuri's eyes what he wasn't able to for the past week: love.

The feeling still sits there in the pit of his stomach when Yuuri turns back to watching the monitors, but Victor can't do the same. How could he, if maybe this is what Yuuri truly feels? Victor has already decided to give up and let Yuuri go after the show is over, but now... He can't truly make up his mind, because if Yuuri still loves him – and he does, he said it himself just the day before – how can Victor just give up on trying to win him back? Isn't that love the only window of opportunity that he needs? A fool's hope, which Victor would gladly grasp at, be a fool, if it would only mean that he'll get Yuuri back?

Absently, Victor watches their collection walk down the runway piece by piece, but his attention is solely on Yuuri. He can't truly see Yuuri's expression unless he's looking directly into Yuuri's eyes, and those are currently glued to the monitors. But there is one other thing Victor can tell just by looking at Yuuri, because Yuuri's lips are just as expressive as his eyes. And, starved, Victor waits for all the changes.

For the joy, which curls around Yuuri's mouth and brings out a little dimple in his cheek. For the critical self-evaluation, when his lips purse together into an unhappy line. For the disappointment, which is a slack-jawed, mournful press of lips, too. For the pleasure, quirky and curved, and just precious. For the awe, which is open-mouthed and slick, and–

"Look at that," Yuuri whispers, catching his arm. His hold is strong, demanding, but Victor can't tear his eyes away from him. "Look!"

Victor looks.

And the song that booms over their heads slips into his mind like a treacherous snake, and he sees it now, for the first time, why Yuuri wanted to use it.

 

 

_You're painting me a dream that I_

_Wouldn't belong in, wouldn't belong in_

_Over the hills and far away_

_A million miles from L.A_

_Just anywhere away with you_

_I know we've got to get away_

_Someplace where no one knows our name_

_We'll find the start of something new_

_Just take me anywhere, take me anywhere_

_Anywhere away with you_

 

 

The wolf blue peacoat with the great faux fur collar walks back, while the wrap top of Yuuri's creation enters from behind. Victor has stared at that one for a long while when Yuuri first showed him the finished thing – it's that perfect. It's seamless. You can't tell where the wrapping starts or where it ends. It simply looks like the fabric was just created this way and not made by human hands... the hands that now clutch onto Victor's arm in Yuuri's excitement.

"I designed that one in Paris, remember?" Yuuri asks softly, and his lips speak the same story.

They're gently curved in a tiny little smile. It reminds Victor of those smiles Yuuri used to give him when he was sleepy and about to tell him he loved him, but it can't be the same one. Victor knows it can't. Because between here and then, he's fucked up really badly and he's lost Yuuri's trust. Maybe not his love, but that will be following soon, too.

Thinking of that, and thinking of Paris, their sweet, precious honeymoon, makes Victor's heart hurt like it hasn't before.

"I remember," he gives, choked and pained as it is.

Yuuri's eyes lift up to him the moment the last of the looks steps onto the catwalk. Victor wants to look away, because it's dangerous to look into Yuuri's eyes, but he can't force himself to do so. He's a weak, weak man when it comes to Yuuri, it's true, yet he'd rather be a weak man who did right by him, if only at the end, than a weak man who couldn't find a selfless bone in his body when he claimed to love him.

"And do you remember–" Yuuri starts, but Victor doesn't let him finish.

"Shh," Victor says, pressing a thumb onto Yuuri's lips to stop him from talking. Like charmed, Yuuri falls silent.

Rita Ora's song hums around them almost mournfully, and in a moment they will have to go out there and take their bows, but now... now there's just them. Yuuri's little breaths caress Victor's fingers like precious butterfly kisses. They're close enough to do that, close enough to kiss, and as Victor's thumb slides over Yuuri's bottom lip, he wants nothing more than to lean in and press his mouth against it.

But that would be selfish. That would be against what he just decided to do. And no matter how much it hurts to say what he needs to, Victor opens his mouth and says it with a small, bittersweet smile.

"It was a pleasure working with you, Yuuri. It was a pleasure getting to know you, and it was an honour to me to be able to spend these past few months with you. Truly."

Yuuri's widened eyes stare at him in something like shock, but Victor needs to say everything before his courage runs out, so he keeps talking:

"I may have expected too much from our relationship, and it might not have been what you wanted, but I truly enjoyed our time together. So let's do this one final time and then you'll be free of me. I promise. I won't try to fight you anymore. You've made it clear that you don't want to do this again, and I will respect that."

Their names are called over the noise of the applause from the audience and they both know it's time.

"Victor, what–"

"I never meant to hurt you," Victor tells him the last thing, rushing, because they don't have any time left. "And I'm sorry for that. I can't tell you how sorry I am about all of this, Yuuri. I love you, I do, but because of that, I'm letting you go. This is what you want and I can't stand in the way of that for my own selfish reasons, so... Be happy, Yuuri. This is your time to shine."

Microphones are thrust in their hands before Yuuri can reply at all, and they're both led out back onto the runway where all the models and the audience are still clapping while waiting for them to appear. The applause only gets louder when they do, but Victor feels numb to it all. The sound comes to him like from behind a veil, and the lights seem too bright one moment and too dark the next, but he forces a smile onto his face and waves at the guests, because that's what he's supposed to do.

He did what he needed to. It's over now. It's all–

"Thank you, thank you," he says over the applause. "By all the noise I'm guessing you enjoyed yourselves? Yes?" The applause grows at his words, so he laughs a short, fake laugh. "Good! Some of our staff are currently going around with glasses of champagne for all of you, so please take one and join us in a little toast."

He takes a glass from the girl who brings one for him and Yuuri, aware of the heat of Yuuri's gaze on him. Victor doesn't look his way, he can't. It would just be too much, and he's already threading on thin ice here.

Once everyone has their drink, Victor lifts his glass higher.

"We were happy to have you here with us tonight, and, well, I guess what I'm supposed to say is happy new year, so... Happy New Year, everyone! He's to another wonderful adventure that awaits us over the hills and far away, as Rita wisely said!"

The laughter that follows doesn't make him feel better at all. In fact, Victor wants to wrap it up as fast as he can, so he can just go back and lock himself somewhere dark, where he'll be able to cry his eyes out like he so desperately wants to. He knocks down his champagne in a few gulps, but before he can say the final words of goodbye, Yuuri takes a few steps before him and addresses the audience.

As always, Yuuri follows a path only known to him, and Victor is left watching and waiting, and – fool, you're a fool, his mind tells him while his heart beats so fast he's dizzy with it – _and_ _hoping_.

"I know we have gathered here tonight to appreciate fashion," Yuuri says, "but I can't truly do that without appreciating the person who influenced me the most as a designer and a man. The person whom I admired for the most of my life. The person I love."

The hush that has fallen around the hall when Yuuri started speaking breaks into excited whisper at the very same time as Victor's skin breaks into goosebumps. He looks at Yuuri's back, disbelieving of what he sees, what he hears, because Yuuri is turning around then – in front of all these people, as they watch and they whisper – and he looks directly at Victor.

His eyes are warm, soft, and yet they're burning. They're determined. And so is Yuuri, because to Victor's shock, he pulls his mask off his face with one quick tug.

"I was wrong," Yuuri says.

His words would make no sense to anyone other than Victor, but Yuuri doesn't seem to care as he speaks directly to Victor then.

"I was wrong," he repeats. "I was scared of failing, so I didn't try as hard as I could. And you were right, Victor. I was being a coward." Yuuri's lips curve into a helpless smile. "I made the decision all on my own, when I should have talked about it with you first. That's how relationships are supposed to work, right?"

He takes a breath, and Victor, who's dizzy with how unexpected all of this is, feels like he steals all of his own air. Still, he'll gladly give it all to him if it means he'll get to hear the rest of what Yuuri has to say. Because if he is saying what Victor thinks he is–

"So tonight I'm being brave," Yuuri continues. "I'm being brave and, in front of all of these witnesses, I want to say this: I'm sorry, Victor. I'm sorry for being selfish, and for being a coward. I'm sorry for not trying harder. I'm sorry for blaming you and putting all of the responsibility on your shoulders. And I–"

The hand that Yuuri is holding the mic with trembles, but he doesn't let that deter him.

"I love you."

Gasps and whispers start all over again in the audience, but Victor doesn't even hear them. They're all inconsequential. Only Yuuri matters to him now, and Victor's entire world narrows down to Yuuri's face, which smiles at him a shaky, hopeful smile that breaks Victor's heart all over again – this time for a completely different reason.

"I love you," Yuuri repeats again. "God, I'm hopelessly in love with you."

He gives a little, bittersweet laugh that should not be this precious, but to Victor it is. It's more than that. It's more–

"You've been my idol and my inspiration, my competition and my rival, my friend and my lover, but, Victor, please believe me, you are the only person I have ever wanted to hold onto. You are the only person whom I ever opened up to like this, and you... you always meet me where I am. You don't push, you never cross the line, and you always see me for who I am. I think, I think it's time that I respond with the same. I think it's time that I step up and meet you where you are, too."

It's too much, Victor thinks. His head is a mess, his heart beats too hard and he's sweating. He's sweating like a pig and he's shivering from the cold sweat that has wrapped his body in a veil of shock.

It's too much.

But when Yuuri drops to one knee before him, it's even more.

Dizzy, breathless, mute, Victor looks at him – because that's the only thing he is capable of anymore.

"Victor," Yuuri calls his name, soft and sweet, "I know I've made many mistakes until now, but if you'll let me, I would like to prove to you and to myself that we can do better. Will you–"

But Victor doesn't hear the rest.

It's strange to watch it happen from the side, but it's even weirder to have to experience it: the world suddenly tilts around him, and it all goes dark for a second there, but when it comes back, Victor realizes that he's falling. He's falling, falling, in love, too, yes, but he's falling down now, and–

Yuuri calls his name one more time and then there are arms around him, holding him, cradling him, but by the time Victor stops falling, his consciousness is long gone. And so is the feeling of Yuuri's arms, Yuuri's voice, Yuu–

 

 

 

 

The world doesn't come back into focus. Victor needs to wrestle it, fight against the darkness and the foggy, nasty feeling wrapped around his head, and only then does he hear a murmur of it, but it's still too distant to be recognizable. Or maybe that's just his mulish brain being obstinate and lazy.

He can't open his eyes for a long moment, though, even when he hears the hum of conversation around him. His eyelids are too heavy. It feels like his head is pulsing: one moment there, another blissfully gone, and another one there, and it only adds to Victor's confusion.

But the voices slowly get louder.

"–the timing of a movie protagonist, this diva, I swear," someone says.

"Give him a break," another chimes in. "You'd feel like fainting too if you didn't eat anything the whole day and then had to go through a full day of excitement. Oh, and I'm forgetting that last part. Nice work, Yuuri."

"He didn't eat? Wha–"

"Hey, I didn't eat the whole day either and I had to watch the two of them tiptoe around each other for weeks," the first voice returns. "I deserve some credit for that."

There's a snort, amused, and Victor finally recognizes it as his best friend. He groans, because now this all makes sense, and he knows that the moment he opens his eyes, Chris' snark will turn right onto him double force.

"Lookie here, the sleeping beauty awakes," Chris sings as if he knows Victor's thoughts, and, heck, he probably does. "Welcome back to the land of responsible adults who don't faint in public places."

"Sorry I didn't have the presence of mind to find a secluded spot to pass out," Victor mumbles back, but his voice is lacking any bite, so it comes out as a petulant little whisper.

"I'll get the medic."

Yuuri, _it's Yuuri_ , Victor realizes as the voice rings the familiar strings of his heart. The moment he opens his eyes to look for him, however, he groans again at the onslaught of brightness.

"Easy there, big boy," Chris tells him. "No need to rush. Just wait for the medic."

"What happened?" Victor asks. "I know I fainted, but..."

"You gave us all quite a fright," Chris explains. "Yuuri barely managed to catch you before you hit your head on the stage."

There's a squeeze of a warm hand around Victor's wrist, and he turns over his hand to take Chris' hand and squeeze back. That's the only way he'll say sorry, but it's enough for the two of them.

"So, basically what happened was, one: your crush asked you out. Very dramatically and in style, props to him for that. Two: you swooned into his arms like a true damsel in distress that you have been this past week." A snort from the side tells Victor they aren't truly alone and he cringes, but lets Chris finish. "And three: you're already trending for various reasons, if you were curious. Some of which are... what was it again, Phichit?"

Phichit must be the other voice, Victor realizes just as the model starts counting out.

"Cancer, starvation, poverty which would lead to starvation again, domestic abuse. From Yuuri's, of course. There's also those who believe you just overworked yourself and others who think you're dying of some incurable disease. Oh, there's also some who think Makkachin is dead and you're in mourning."

"What even..."

Victor can't feel the tongue in his mouth, but it seems like he doesn't need to say anything. Chris already knows what he's thinking, after all.

"They're idiots, the lot of them," he says. "Looking for drama in all the wrong places..."

"There's like ten Buzzfeed articles about your relationship, too, don't worry," Phichit informs him. "You're trending on Twitter and Instagram, and your fainting has been caught on camera, so it's already a meme. Quite impressive work, Victor, I gotta admit."

Victor's groan gets drowned in the sound of footsteps rushing to his side. Chris hand disappears from Victor's, so he knows that the medic must be here.

"Mr. Nikiforov," the guy calls his name, "can you please open your eyes for me?"

"Do I have to...?" he asks, but opens his eyes.

"I need to check your pupils, sir, so if you could, please look this way," the man asks.

Victor turns his head towards him, but it isn't the medic who catches his attention, no. It's the one who's standing behind him, and once Victor sees him, he can't really look away.

"Eyes on me, sir," the medic chides, but can he really not feel the electricity in the air? Can he really not feel the static that runs and skips when Victor looks at Yuuri and Yuuri looks at him? "Please, Mr. Nikiforov, let me do my job. I promise to be out of your hair soon."

"Victor, do as the man says," Chris adds his own teasing. "You and Yuuri can have your tearful reunion once we all know you're okay, so just get on with it. The faster we're done, the sooner you can be alone."

Now, that is something that breaks through Victor's staring. Or maybe it's simply Yuuri's rising blush that looks so precious and sweet that Victor has to blink to make sure it's real. And once he blinks, the spell breaks and he can turn his eyes away. Not that he wants to, but Chris is right. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he'll be able to speak to Yuuri about–

"Good," the medic says when Victor looks at him expectantly.

He checks Victor's eyes, has him follow his finger and touches his head here and there, before he decides that he should be fine and that this must have been just slight anaemia.

"It would be best if someone were to stay with you tonight to keep an eye on you," the medic says as he puts a protein bar in Victor's hand. "Eat that, get something to drink, and make sure to rest. If any dizziness and nausea happen, or if you faint again, make sure to get to a hospital ASAP. You might need an IV and a closer examination, but apart from that? You're good to go, Mr. Nikiforov."

"Thanks," Victor says, holding the protein bar which he doesn't feel like eating at all. "I'll keep that in mind."

And it must sound like he means it – he won't do any of what is suggested – because the medic frowns at him.

"Mr. Katsuki," he pointedly calls. "Please make sure he does as instructed."

"Of course," Yuuri quickly steps in. "I'll take care of him."

With a nod and a stern look at Victor, the medic slinks away from the small backstage room they've locked themselves in. Victor's eyes have slowly adjusted to the brightness, so now he can see more than just hear the others.

Phichit is scrolling on his phone, tapping from time to time, and Victor briefly wonders if the Internet shitstorm is as bad as he made it sound, but.. it doesn't really matter now, does it? Chris is standing behind Victor, yet once the medic leaves, he gives Yuuri a look, and then pats Victor on the shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that again, Victor," he tells him. "I won't forgive you if you kick the bucket so soon. I have shares in your magazine, you better make it worth my while before you consider another stunt like this."

It's veiled and it's silly, but it's Chris, so Victor's lips quirk a little at this sweet expression of concern.

"Yeah, nothing like that scheduled for the next couple of years, I promise," Victor says.

"Thank goodness," Chris replies and pats Victor's shoulder once more. "We'll leave you two to talk then. Just..." Chris lifts his gaze and glares straight into Yuuri's eyes. "Take it easy."

Victor can't know what happened between the two of them, but Yuuri only nods seriously. He looks a little pale and a little... well, a little sick, too, but the set of his jaw is hard. Determined. Strong.

He's beautiful, and Victor's heart aches with how much he–

"Hey, I wanted to see that," Phichit complains when Chris loops their arms together and tugs him out of the room. "That would've been prime Instagram material, you meanie–"

The rest of his word are lost when the door finally closes and the room slips into silence.

Victor takes a deep breath before he looks at Yuuri, but Yuuri is already looking at him. He's looking, and he's looking, and he doesn't say anything. Not for a while. He first sighs, a deep, tired thing, as he slowly makes his way to the little couch Victor is resting on. He sits at his side gingerly, and only then does he speak.

"How are you feeling?"

"You know how I feel, the medic just asked me that," Victor replies only to watch Yuuri flinch.

"Yeah, okay, I deserved that," Yuuri mumbles. "But... I mean... How are you feeling about, well, how much do you remember from... before?"

"I–" Victor starts and then pauses. "How long was I out? Wait, let me... I should sit up."

Yuuri helps him, because of course he does. He's always been kind and sweet like that. He holds Victor's hand for a second longer than necessary, but Victor doesn't mind. He wouldn't mind even if Yuuri kept holding it, but Yuuri lets go once Victor is propped up on a few hard, clunky pillows.

"It's been about half an hour, maybe less," Yuuri tells him. "Are you– Do you want to talk now? You're probably still confused, so it might be better to wait–"

"No," Victor interrupts him. "No, no, I'm fine. I remember what you said, but I'm just... I'm not sure if I was already dreaming when you asked me– wait, what did you ask me again?"

He frowns, trying to remember, but nothing comes to mind.

"I didn't get to ask you," Yuuri tells him softly. "You fainted just before I could."

"Oh."

To say that Victor is disappointed would be the understatement of the century. And yet, even if he is disappointed, his heart squeezes in his chest with new hope all at the same time.

"You could... you could finish now? If you want?" he offers, and, God, he feels so small.

He feels uncertain, unsure, so scared of Yuuri rejecting him this time again simply because he might think that Victor is too weak and that, that would've been too painful to go through at a time like this, when Victor already feels tender enough that a wrong glance from Yuuri could break him.

Yuuri looks at him like he wants to refuse, too, but it lasts only for a second. A second of pain, only to have his breath knocked out of his lungs when Yuuri turns his head away, blushes, and lifts a hand to rub at his cheek self-consciously.

"I thought... when you fainted, I thought that maybe that was your way of saying no to me," he admits.

"NO!" Victor sits up so fast that he sways and his head spins, but just as Yuuri makes a noise of concern and grabs him to support him, Victor clutches onto his arms like the desperate man he is and carries on: "No, no, not a no, Yuuri, no! Yes!"

"Yes?" Yuuri repeats. "Victor, wait, you need to calm down and–"

"I will _not_ calm down!" Victor interrupts him. "That was a _yes_."

"Okay, okay. So, that was a yes, as in... you'll give us another try, or yes, I was right and you don't want to–"

There are no words to express Victor's frustration with Yuuri in that moment. After everything they've been through...

The sound Victor makes is a groan and a growl, half of each, but it's so fitting for the turmoil he feels that he lets it go. He lets all of it go.

And he lifts his hands, and he grabs Yuuri's face, and before Yuuri can finish his stupid question, or ask another dozen of them like Victor knows his mind is telling him to, Victor pulls him close and kisses him like he wanted to do so badly for so long.

Yuuri's little sound of surprise melts against his lips when Yuuri opens his mouth, and, God, it feels too good for Victor to even try to pretend that he could ever have let Yuuri go. The kiss itself doesn't last long, neither of them feels the need for it, but just those few seconds of it is enough. It's more than enough – it's perfect.

Breathless, grinning, and so, so tired of everything, but loving every second of this now, Victor looks into Yuuri's eyes, which shine back at him with the same love that is rising from the ashes of Victor's heart like a phoenix.

"So..." Yuuri licks his lips while his warm breath caresses Victor's face. "That was a yes."

If Victor wasn't afraid of making his head spin, he would've rolled his eyes. Instead, he grins and presses that grin against Yuuri's lips again, kissing a "Yes, yes, yes," onto them, until Yuuri laughs and kisses him back.

Finally, Victor thinks. Finally, everything is as it should be. Finally, they can begin the second chapter and make it better than the first, together. Finally, the dream they designed – so hopeful, so sweet, so bright – can start for real.

And, somehow, Victor has no doubt that it will be a dream worth living, and a life worth loving.

This time, for sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used:  
> [spider masquerade mask](https://www.elvendesignart.com/spider-masquerade-mask.html) which yuuri wears in this chapter  
> [louis vuitton fall 2018 orange turtleneck](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-menswear/louis-vuitton/slideshow/collection#24) which I would die to see vitya in, hence yuuri's desire for that too ;3c  
> [off-white fall 2018 blue wool cape](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/off-white/slideshow/collection#7)
> 
> their runway song: [Rita Ora's Anywhere](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksdAs4LBRq8)
> 
>  
> 
> and well! I did promise you a happy ending, didn't I? we all know how much yuuri loves his grand gestures of love, so... there you have it! vitya, the dramatic boy we all love, has finally gotten his second chance and in what style! hooo! 
> 
> only a sweet, darling epilogue is left, my friends! I hope you scream me to death in the comments and see you in 2 days~ //sends smooches yalls way


	17. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seeing so many people who think vitya did nothing to fight for this relationship, and for those people I have to say: he did. all that work he was doing was so that he could step down from being the head designer of vn and spend time with yuuri. and yes, I know how that sounds, and I know he's an idiot for thinking that's even remotely acceptable, but that WAS his intention, however misguided it was.  
> not to mention that he talked yuuri out of ending things then and there when they met in barcelona, and kept trying to stir yuuri's feelings again so that he can beg for a second chance. and last, but not least... show me a greater gesture of love but letting someone you love go because they want happiness which isn't yours to give any longer. if all that isn't fighting idk what is tbh
> 
> also, to those of you who think yuuri didn't fight for him: he didn't. why? there's many reasons like the 'I love you' victor didn't return, yuuri's anxiety, maybe bc yuuri is the kind of person who thinks he will bother someone who's busy when he messages him without a good reason, YUURI'S ANXIETY, yeah hi yuuri's anxiety again which convinces him that victor might not actually care anymore so he shouldn't bother him unless it's work and it's important and not at all connected to yuuri's personal feelings 
> 
> and to those of you who think mila was out of line: she was, but that's kind of what people do, you know? they always think they know best without actually knowing shit about either of the people in the relationship. sometimes they hit the nail on the head, but other times... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> let me just say: this whole situation is fucked up, and I get that yall are mad that victor didn't apologize and that yuuri never talked to him about it before and all the other stuff, but... that's life yall. it's that messy. apologies don't fix things, only actions do, and I believe that victor did the best he could given everything. and so did yuuri. you're, of course, free to think otherwise, but that's my own personal take on this!
> 
> now... after all this heavy stuff, let's get some floof in our starved hearts <3

 

 

 

 

 

Calling home has never been as nerve-wracking as it is now. Sure, sometimes it was hard, and sometimes it was painful when the loneliness of being the only one away from the rest of his family hit him, but Yuuri doesn't remember a time when he was this afraid of hearing his mother's voice.

His hand is sweaty and his fingers slip on the phone case while he waits for someone, anyone, to pick up. Honestly, there's a part of him that wishes no one does, so he could sigh with relief and push it off for later, but this is already his third try and he's been vibrating with nerves the whole morning. He might as well get it over with.

Finally, the call connects and there's a click on the other side, before Yuuri hears the familiar voice which lulled him to sleep for so many years greet him politely in Japanese.

"Kaa-san, hi. It's me," he breathes.

"Yuuri!"

He can hear the wide smile in her voice, but unlike every other time, today it makes his hands tremble slightly.

"How are you? It's been too long since we last talked! I told you to call more often, but I suppose you were busy, weren't you?"

"I was," Yuuri admits. "Sorry, I should've found the time."

"It's fine, it's fine! We all miss you, but we know how tough it must be for you, too. Just make sure you rest, okay? We all worry you're pushing yourself too hard."

Any other day, Yuuri would smile at such blatant display of affection. Any other day... but not today.

"Kaa-san," he starts, gripping the phone tighter with his cold, numb fingers. "I'm actually calling today to tell you something. I–"

He pauses, because no matter how many times he tried the words before a mirror and before a bored Makkachin, speaking them now to his mother is a lot, lot harder. Even if he can't see her.

"What is it, Yuuri?" she asks. "You aren't sick, are you? Everything is alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm okay."

Yuuri swallows. He gathers all his courage and opens his mouth, ready to blurt out the words, but the clinking of keys in the front door stops him.

Like charmed, Yuuri watches the door swing open: slowly, dramatically, and then all the way through. Victor steps inside, dressed in his gray coat and a deep emerald scarf around his neck, which brings out the blue of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks and the silver of his hair. He looks like a model who stepped out off the pages of his own magazine and it's a surreal experience, one of many that Yuuri has gone through since they moved in together a few weeks ago.

"Yuuri, dear, are you still there?"

His mother's voice snaps him back to the present and Yuuri blinks, just as Victor smiles at him in greeting. Silently, Yuuri presses a finger to his lips as a signal for Victor to stay quiet.

"Yeah, I'm still here," Yuuri says to his mother. And then, without ever looking away from Victor, who's hanging his coat now on the hanger by the door, Yuuri adds: "I have someone I want you all to meet. I was thinking... could we come visit at the beginning of April?"

"Oh!"

His mother's excited squeal makes Yuuri's lips quirk.

"Oh, oh, oh! My sweet boy, is this what I think it is? Of course you can visit! Anytime, my dear! Should I prepare your old room?" Her breath catches in a way that is impossible to call anything but sweet. "No, no, that won't be enough! We'll get you a bigger room. Yours is pretty small, after all. But, oh, I'm so excited! And I'm so happy for you, Yuuri. Congratulations!"

Yuuri can't help but laugh a little. "Kaa-san, please. There isn't anything to congratulate yet. At least wait till I tell you everything."

"Okay, okay, very well," she says. "So? Are you going to tell me?"

Yuuri's attention is stolen once again by Victor, who walks past him, but not without dropping a little kiss to Yuuri's head. It's sweet and it's precious, and Yuuri smiles, and smiles, and– God, he just can't stop smiling.

"I'll tell you in person," Yuuri decides.

His mother hums. "Alright, but... Let me just say this for now: I'm glad, Yuuri. You sound happy, and that is what every mother wants for their child. So I'm happy you're happy, and I will patiently wait to hear about whoever it is that made my boy live his life to the fullest."

"Kaa-san," Yuuri chides, slightly embarrassed, but he can't hide his happiness from her. He never could.

"Yes, yes, I know." His mother laughs. "I will tell your father and Mari to expect you soon, then. I'm sure they will be dying of curiosity until then."

"Don't tease them too much about it, please."

"I don't know what you mean," Yuuri's mother answers, playfully innocent.

They both share a laugh, after which, Yuuri says: "I will see you all soon, then. Be well. And say hi to Mari and dad for me."

"I will, of course. And you take care of yourself too, my boy. We love you no matter what, remember that."

"I do." Yuuri smiles. "Thank you, kaa-san."

When the line goes dead and Yuuri locks his phone again, it seems silly that he was so nervous about this conversation. He still feels like he's shivering somewhere in his core, vibrating deep inside, and trembling on the outside, but he feels lighter now. And on light, light feet he pads to the bedroom, where Victor is changing his clothes into something more comfortable to wear than the elegant suit he went out in.

"How was the meeting?" Yuuri asks, putting his phone on the nightstand and coming up behind Victor to wrap him in a hug.

Victor's trousers are unbuttoned, but still hanging on his hips, and he's shirtless, but warm. The moment Yuuri touches his skin, he can't help himself from nuzzling his cheek right between Victor's shoulder blades.

"Pretty good, I'd say," Victor replies to his question. "The investors still think I need a board to oversee my work, because I'm ' _only a designer, what can I know about running a magazine_?', but if we keep grossing the profits we have for the first two issues, I probably won't have any problems in shutting them up for good."

"That's good," Yuuri mumbles into Victor's warm skin and presses a little kiss right against where his mouth sits. "I know you can do it."

Victor brings one of Yuuri's hands up from where it was resting around his waist, and presses a kiss to the finger on which a golden ring glistens in the daylight falling through the big windows.

"Thank you, my love," Victor chirps sweetly. "And how did your thing go?"

"Good," Yuuri repeats again, smiling into Victor's back. "Very good. Keep the beginning of April open for a spa trip."

"I will pen it into my calendar first thing tomorrow," Victor promises, trying to withhold his laughter and failing.

It jostles Yuuri a little when Victor's shoulders shake, but it's fine. It's good. This is how it all should be.

Everything... is good.

 

 

 

 

The flight is long and awful, and the train ride to Hasetsu is the cherry on top of that terrible cake. But Victor is smiling– no, he's _grinning like a madman_ , and his energy is infectious, if only for a little while. Yuuri can't stop smiling to himself. And he can't stop smiling at Victor, either.

He's going home, but best of all – he's going home with Victor.

It's part excitement, part worry, part something deeper and sweeter than he can find a name for, which has him lead Victor towards the Yu-topia Katsuki by the hand and open the door for him to step in first. It's still slightly cold outside, so Yuuri pulls in their luggage quickly to keep the chill of the April weather out of the warm heart of Yu-topia.

There is no one at the counter when he looks up, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds before footsteps sound on the wooden floorboards, a familiar echo that pulls on the strings of Yuuri's heart. Soon, there's a face to the footsteps, too – the sweet face of his mother, which lights up with joy the moment she appears from the nook leading into the kitchen.

Before Yuuri even knows it, she's by his side, squeezing his slightly cold hands with her warm ones.

"It's so good to have you home, Yuuri," she tells him, a little tearful, but smiling.

And because words are hard, and Yuuri has never been good at them, he swoops her into a hug, which he hopes will tell her all that he needs to say. Because there's a lot. And he doesn't know where to start or how to explain, but the moment he pulls back and looks into her eyes, he knows it will be fine.

He has time, after all. For everything.

But the most important now is...

"Kaa-san," Yuuri starts, letting her go and turning to Victor, who politely says nothing at all and waits to be introduced. "This is Victor, kaa-san. The person I wanted you to meet."

"Ah," his mother says, smiling. "The boy from the cover."

Yuuri blinks. "The cover...?"

"Oh, the one Mari showed me! The recent one. It was all in English so I didn't understand a word, but she said it was about your new line, I think?" She hums. "Yes, that must have been it."

The only thing that stops Yuuri from groaning is the confusion on Victor's face. It's outrageously adorable, and Yuuri would love to confuse him more, but being surrounded by people speaking a language you know all but three words in can be pretty daunting, so he takes pity on him. And takes his hand, too, fighting a blush at his own boldness in his mother's presence.

"Yes, it's him," Yuuri confirms. He squeezes Victor's hand and Victor looks to him with questioning eyes, but Yuuri shakes his head and turns to his mother again. "Please treat him like one of the other guests, though."

"Now why would we do that, Yuuri?" His mother clicks her tongue, but smiles soon after. "He's family, no? So he'll be treated as such. Now, come, don't be rude. Introduce me to him."

Yuuri doesn't really know what to do or say to that bold proclamation, but he does as asked. He turns to Victor and, this time in English, he says:

"This is my mother, Victor. Hiroko Katsuki."

"Ah, I thought so! You have your mother's smile, Yuuri, did you know?" Victor smiles at Yuuri lightly, before he turns that smile onto his mother, adorable and bright. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Katsuki. Thank you for having me. I know this is very last minute and it must be a lot of trouble, so if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know."

Yuuri, who is pretty certain his mother didn't understand most of it, opens his mouth to translate, but his mother surprises him again. She climbs to her tiptoes and lifts her arm up, which doesn't give her much height, but it does make Victor bow down a little so she can reach – and, stunned, Yuuri watches how his mother pats his idol's cheek sweetly, and clearly says in an accented English: "Good boy."

Very suddenly, Yuuri has an impossible to ignore urge that tells him to die of embarrassment. Right about now.

"Kaa-san!" he gasps, flushed up to the roots of his hair. "You can't just–!"

But it seems like his mother and Victor are kindred spirits, because Victor's little laugh fills the hall with joy.

"Arigatou gozaimasu," Victor tells her back in his own accented Japanese, and the two share big grins before they look back at Yuuri who is at a loss for words.

"Shall we move to the dining room?" Yuuri's mother asks when Yuuri stays silent. "We have a room prepared for you, but you must be hungry after the journey. All that airplane food can't be good for you. Let's get you both settled in and then I will bring you something. We have grilled fish and miso today."

When Yuuri says nothing to that, she hums and looks to Victor.

"Food?" she says in English, and that's all it takes to make Victor light up with another smile.

"Oh, I'd love to eat something! Hai!"

Mutely, Yuuri follows behind the both of them while they converse in this odd, surprisingly endearing way, and... well, he can't help the warmth from spreading over his heart.

He's home. He's back with his family. And Victor... Victor seems to already be a part of that, doesn't he?

Yuuri looks at the side of Victor's happily smiling face and catches Victor's eye for a second there, only to watch Victor's smile soften into something far sweeter and more loving than he could ever hope for.

Yes, Yuuri decides. Victor already is family.

For better or for worse, Yuuri is not letting him go ever again.

 

 

 

 

It's well after dinner, and well after Victor meets Yuuri's father and Mari, that Yuuri finds himself alone for the first time that day. He's sitting in the family dining room, where he was left by his mother and Victor who together took the dishes back to the kitchen. It's strange to see Victor so happily complying with chores, but Yuuri can't really argue with him when he gets a kiss to his head and a brilliant smile in return for allowing him to do that.

Heck, he'd allow Victor to do anything he could ever possibly want if it meant he'd get to see that smile on his face more often.

The inn is far more quiet than Yuuri remembers it being whilst he was growing up, but it's been years since he has visited here, so maybe he just remembers wrong. The peaceful air that surrounds him now is something he can't really complain about, however.

He takes a deep sigh, full on his mother's delicious cooking, and sits back. The scent of the tatami mats is so familiar that is chokes him a little with nostalgia. Yuuri can't help but smile. It's been so long, and yet, from what he has seen of the inn on the way, nothing much has changed here. The walls, the floors, the wooden smell of the house along with the fair bamboo scent that lingers everywhere... it's home.

Yuuri stretches his legs out under the table, but before he can lie down on the tatami to remind himself what being a lazy-bum after dinner was like, his eye catches on something. Right under the small TV, in the spot where his father used to keep his newspapers...

Yuuri squints at it, and squints again.

And, indeed, it is the magazine his mother must have been talking about. The one and only, where on the front page, Christophe, Phichit, Victor and Yuuri stand together and smile – dressed in the pieces from their New Years' collection.

Before Yuuri knows it, he's crawling over to pluck the magazine off its shelf. He flips it open, page by page, until he finds the interview they've given for this exact issue. He never managed to read it, after all. Life got too busy, designing got too hectic... There are many excuses, he knows.

But now, he has none.

So until Victor comes back...

Yuuri lies down again, lifts the magazine over his face, and reads as if he doesn't know what's in there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri Katsuki._

_The two names that anyone who's anyone in the fashion industry must know about. The first belongs to the head designer of VN – a trendsetter, an icon among icons, a true legend whose collections one after another take the industry by surprise. The other, under the brand Yuugen, has stormed the world with flair and pizzazz that only his work can poses. With a fresh outlook into what avant-garde means to contemporary fashion, Katsuki has charmed not only his designated audience, but also other hearts on his way towards greatness._

_For two such vibrant figures, they appropriately intimidate with their very presence the second they come into the room, yet the moment of reverence doesn't last long – it's broken by the smiles that the two can't seem to resist any time they look at each other. When asked about it, Nikiforov laughs._

_"Is it a crime to smile when you're happy?" he asks. "Wherever you look in fashion, all you see is stone-cold faces. On the runway models, the audience, the designers. In the magazine spreads, at photo shoots. It's almost like smiling is no longer in fashion, and you know what I have to say to that?"_

_The obscenity that followed would not be proper for print, but Nikiforov further explains: "A silly standard of beauty we up the fashion ladder have created is the one where a serious face is often perceived as more alluring. Mysterious, sexy, irresistible. It's all a big, fat lie. It's a trick. Honestly, how can anyone say that that is more beautiful than a true expression of love, happiness and affection?"_

_Before he can delve deeper into the subject, Katsuki reaches out and squeezes his hand. He seems to be the voice of reason between the two, a level-headed man who has steered his own career through the rough waters of unchartered fashion shores._

_It is about those unchartered waters that we have asked them to speak on further. After all, it has only been a month since the collaborative collection from under Nikiforov and Katsuki's hands has shaken everyone to their core with both the designs, and the events happening behind the scenes._

_"It really wasn't my intention to involve anyone else in our problems," Katsuki explains. "Our private lives are private for a reason. Fashion is work. Fashion is our lives and livelihoods, yes, but like Coco Chanel once said "Fashion is everywhere," I say that not everything needs to be fashion. Some things are better off untouched, pure. And I apologize for bringing the fashion world into those things."_

_He seems honest in his apology, yet still not entirely repentant. It bodes to question his motives, for this instance and for what happened at the New Years' show of the collab collection. There have been voices speaking against Katsuki and Nikiforov, claiming the two have fabricated a love story to fit the narrative of their own making as a stunt to garner more attention towards their new launch._

_"We are both far above using cheap marketing tactics like that for the sole purpose of generating interest in our work." Nikiforov's smile turns decidedly chilly as he answers the allegations. "But, yes, our relationship is real. However, I believe it hardly matters in the scope of fashion, no?"_

_And he is right, of course. The simple rumours and the confession from Katsuki himself at the end of the runway show in January are small news compared to the bigger news that this collaboration presents to the industry – could this be a dawn of a new era? Could VN and Yuugen be joining forces? The two sides of the opposite coin: the trendsetting casual versus the avant-garde glamour; when combined, which would remain and which would get swallowed up whole?_

_"It isn't like that," Nikiforov says. "We aren't and have never been in competition with each other. Fashion isn't about that. And, well, as of now, we aren't working together anymore anyway. We both have different priorities at the current time, but we respect each other's work as much as we have before."_

_"It was a onetime thing," Katsuki adds, speaking about their collection. "We were quite stupid to attempt it in the short time that we had, seeing as we were both also busy with other things at the given time, but we gave into inspiration and did it. And that's done. Maybe there could potentially be more in the future, but not at such a big scale and not for a long while. We're both busy men, after all."_

_Katsuki speaks of inspiration, so we prodded about it and got him to admit that their relationship was the biggest of their muses. He points to the orange turtleneck (photo on page 57), and says that it came to be as a joke, because he "wanted to see Victor in orange." Nikiforov tries hard to suppress a smile at that, so we've asked if Katsuki did indeed see him wearing it, but we didn't get a word of reply – only a little quirk of Katsuki's lips and a shared glance between the two that must have meant more to them that we could divine._

_Instead, we ask them about what other projects they are so busy with. They must have been waiting for it, because Katsuki nods at Nikiforov, who smiles, first at him, then at us, and drops the biggest bomb on us without hesitation: he announces that he will be stepping down as the creative designer of VN. Naturally, this evokes a spectacular reaction from all of our staff, but Nikiforov is unmoved – he stands by his words._

_"I had a lot of time to build up my career," he says. "I have been in fashion for, well... about fifteen years, in many capacities. And, frankly? I've had enough. Not of fashion itself, because that I can never get bored of, but what many people don't realize about the life of a designer – deadlines, outlines, ideas, sketches, working overtime, working whenever, wherever, because if you don't, the idea will go and once it's gone, it's gone." He sighs. "It's a rat race. You're done with one collection, but while it's still fresh off the sewing machine, you already need to think of the next one. And that's all you do, year round. The seasons change, but they never really do for a designer. It's all the same vicious cycle of trying to come up with something fresh, something new... and, how many new things can you envision year after year after year?"_

_There is no doubt of the honesty in Nikiforov's voice, and we all want to do what Katsuki does: take his hand and lend him some support, but we listen to what Nikiforov says next._

_"Never doubt that I love fashion with my whole soul. I can't imagine myself doing anything else. The Nikiforov name that I have built up over the years is already a brand with its own rights, and it is on the pillars of that brand that I want to lay down a foundation for something else. Something bigger than VN, if I succeed."_

_"You see," he continues, "it's something I always dreamed of, when I was young. It's something I wouldn't be able to do as a designer, the way I am now. So instead, I pay the sacrifice that, mind you, is nothing compared to achieving that dream, and I will be stepping down from VN. And after that, I will be launching my own fashion magazine, because I want to spend the rest of my life providing inspiration to the young generations, just like Vogue and so many others have done to me when I was still a boy."_

_"You already are an inspiration to all of us, Victor," Katsuki tells him then in the show of support, which has Nikiforov smile gratefully at him._

_We cannot help but join in on that sentiment. After all, Nikiforov is an idol and inspiration to many designers. Even those as seasoned as Katsuki himself, who has once admitted in an interview with a different magazine to having taken to designing because of the man he is sitting next to today._

_We ask what Katsuki's plans are for this new year, but he only smiles mysteriously. "Plans are good to have, but sometimes you just need to let spontaneity take the reins of your life. Let it loose and watch where it goes, because you never know what interesting, new places it can lead you to."_

_He looks at Nikiforov and their hands come together again, much to the consternation of our photographer, who cannot catch a single shot without an obvious glare of the matching golden rings the two are wearing. Before we say goodbye, we ask them about those rings as a final question to unload the tension the sudden revelations of Nikiforov's parting from VN brought._

_Katsuki blushes at the topic, but Nikiforov is less bashful. He smiles a soft smile, which is directed at Katsuki as if all of us ceased to exist, and he says:_

_"Fashion is a dream world which we all want to be a part of, even if we can't afford the clothes we admire. But sometimes the dream you stumble upon is too big, too great to bear alone. Sometimes you need that special someone at your side to walk that catwalk we call life with you. Thankfully, I've already found someone to live out that dream with." He lifts their joined hands to his lips and rests a kiss against Katsuki's ring, which has all of us collectively feel our hearts beat double._

_"I hope that you find yours, too, but in the meanwhile... consider supporting your fashion dream by checking out my magazine, Modus Vivendi!"_

_It is impossible to resist Nikiforov's charm as a person, but there is undeniable truth to his words as well: fashion is a dream, and we are all dreamers who waddle around this world blind and starved for glamour, chic, and sophistication of the couture. To find it and sate our lust, the closest step to take is to indulge in a fashion magazine, like Nikiforov says._

_The first issue of Nikiforov's new medium is set to launch at the end of January. Suffice it to say, we expect a great deal of exciting things to stem from his work,  like he has proven to be capable of throughout the many years of leading VN with his brilliant, bedazzled collections of stylish and wearable garments._

_As for Katsuki, he is set to–_

 

 

 

The soft slide of the door breaks Yuuri out of his reading, and he blinks.

"What are you doing?" Victor's voice asks from above him, so Yuuri closes the magazine over one finger to mark the page and lowers it down so he can look at him.

"Reading our interview with _Vogue_ ," he says.

He pats the tatami next to him in an unspoken invitation, which Victor takes up gladly and with a smile. He settles in next to him, with his head tucked on Yuuri's shoulder, and Yuuri shows him the cover.

"We look nice on there," Victor says with a little hum.

"We do, don't we?" Yuuri agrees. "Did you read the whole article?"

"I wouldn't have agreed to have it published if I didn't," Victor says, and sure, that makes sense, Yuuri thinks.

"So you approved all those unsubtle mentions of our relationship?"

Yuuri turns his head and lifts an eyebrow at Victor, who shows zero shame when he grins back at him.

"I _insisted_ on them."

Yuuri doesn't know what he was expecting, honestly. Yet, still, he gives in to the heat that crawls onto his cheeks at Victor's beaming pride in their relationship. It's... it's really sweet, if Yuuri thinks about it.

"Everyone already knows anyway, what's there to gloat about?" he mumbles anyway.

The little gasp Victor gives has the rage of a thousand burning suns in it.

"Now, if I didn't know any better I'd think you aren't happy about being engaged to me, my Yuuri, but luckily for you, I _do_ know better."

Victor kisses Yuuri's cheek and then nips at his jaw while he's at it, which makes Yuuri hiss a little in surprise at the slight sting. It disappears just as fast when Victor presses a kiss to the exact same spot, soft and sweet, and silly.

"You just love being mean to me, don't you?" Victor asks.

So much has happened between them, so much has changed... but some things were too good to change from the start. Some things, like Victor's love for Yuuri's lack of restraint.

Unable to hide his grin, Yuuri turns his head to Victor.

"And what if I do?" he challenges, but Victor is more than ready for it.

"Then I guess I need to teach you to make it up to me. Properly," he replies, rolling over and hovering above Yuuri.

He's beautiful like this: sweet and playful and happy. And when he leans down to press his lips to Yuuri's, the magazine gets knocked out of Yuuri's hand. By that point it's alright, though. This, here, is infinitely better than anything else in the world, printed or made up, rich or poor, extravagant or cliché. This, here, is real. The realest it gets.

And Yuuri is a lucky man to have it: to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in bad times and the good. Until death does them part... or so it goes, but Yuuri hardly cares as he kisses Victor again, and slips his hand into Victor's soft, silky hair to pull him closer, because he's sure that not even death can diminish the feelings he has for this man. Not now, not ever.

And when Victor pants against his lips on a stolen breath, and his eyes shine with love as they look into Yuuri's, Yuuri knows that Victor feels exactly the same. After all, they went through too much together to ever doubt that again.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pictures used (honorable mentions):  
> [gucchi fall 2018 ready-to-wear... whatever it is](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/gucci/slideshow/collection#63)  
> [sping/summer 2008 butterfly headdress by philip treacy for alexander mcqueen](https://thingssimonloves.com/2015/04/23/alexander-mcqueen-2/)  
> [gucchi fall 2018 ready-to-wear... well, THAT](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2018-ready-to-wear/gucci/slideshow/collection#38)
> 
> [A LINK TO @LITTORELLA'S STUNNING ART](https://twitter.com/Alli_Littorella/status/1072520266188812288)
> 
>  
> 
> I would like to take a moment to thank all of you for reading, and the many amazing people who commented and always made me grin with their screams: PompomSamael, rosesandmoredance, kazul9, Specs2, InLoveWithYOI, Emmiss, curryeats, ElizaF, autumnian, KamRaeTay, DoctorwhoXMangafan2, awesomecookies, SomePerson, OceanPixie, spidela, MurmuredLullabye, Linisen, starsgleam, Phoenix Song, Fraulein_Zupan, anon(pollen)1, wallawoo, elo_ole and katnor! you guys made this experience so much more fulfilling and I can't even tell you how much each of your comments means to me ♥️
> 
> thank you for making this month-long (and a couple more in prep) journey as exciting and magical as it was! I know I wasn't the best at answering comments, but I have read all of them and I will probably reread them again and again. my only regret is that this story was already finished before I started to post it, because so many of you inspired me to take this into a completely different direction that I really feel it's a shame that this ended how it ended. I truly appreciate all your input and thoughts, and hope that you will stick around my writes until the next time because maybe then we will be able to create something awesome together ♥️  
> I hope you have a wonderful day, and that you had fun with this fic from start to finish! thank you for reading, and see you all soon!
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to reach out to me on tumblr [@katzuyas ](http://katzuyas.tumblr.com/)or twitter [@katzuyas](https://twitter.com/katzuyas)!
> 
> and tis be all!


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